Harry Potter and the Dogfather II: Chamber of Secrets
by LadyClassical
Summary: Harry learns before second year that he can speak Parseltongue and he has a rather disturbing inkling of why; Regulus remembers how much family means to him; Sirius enters fatherhood, trying to leave his demons behind him. But when horror, pain, and crushing loss threaten it all, they learn that leaving the past where it belongs is not so easy. (year 2 AU, Draco and Lucius bashing)
1. Home Invasion

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Everyone, THANK YOU SO MUCH for your support during the writing of** _ **Harry Potter and the Dogfather I: Sorcerer's Stone**_ **. Without you, this new story would not exist. But since it does,** __ **welcome to** _ **Harry Potter and the Dogfather II: Chamber of Secrets!**_ **Sure, this story's predecessor was a hard act to follow (kidding!) but be prepared for laughs, surprises, groans, scares, tears and OMG I** _ **KNEW**_ **IT moments! And, of course…they don't call me the Queen of Fluff for nothing, so remember, this story will be just as sappy as the last, too… ;)**

 **The** _ **good**_ **kind of sappy!**

…

 _June 23_ , _1992_

"That is IT!"

Harry Potter stormed of the smelly bathroom in between his bedroom and Sirius's and into the drawing room of their flat, which actually smelled somewhat normal. "When we move into the new Hogsmeade house, I'm getting my OWN bathroom!"

"What? Why?" asked Sirius, who was sitting on the couch and watching TV. The air-conditioner was blowing at full blast. (Sirius had adjusted to Muggle technology pretty quickly, once he'd learned how it benefited him.)

" _Why?!"_ Harry said in disbelief. "I'll tell you why! Thanks to you and your little _problem_ , that bathroom stinks to high heaven! Seriously, did something DIE in there?! You're lucky I just had to pee, or you would've had to get me a gas mask! Why can't I just go back to using my bathroom like I did before Barbara moved in?"

"Because she spends half her life in there, that's why," said Sirius. "See?"

As if on cue, 28-week-pregnant Barbara Raffelovich, Sirius's fiancée, slammed open the door to Sirius's room and entered the bathroom right next to it, the one that used to be Harry's, followed by an announcement that she would probably be in there for a long time.

"I know all too well, since she discussed her constipation problems while I had to sit there in the car and listen," said Harry.

Sirius rolled his eyes, but he didn't disagree. He too was less "regular" than he used to be, due to the anti-depressant prescription medication he was on. Since he had almost died of a heart attack several weeks ago, they had put him on medicine for that, too, but luckily there hadn't been any negative side effects.

Harry was pleased beyond words that Sirius was recovering nicely, but still, he wished he didn't have to share a bathroom with his godfather, and he thought it was a TERRIBLE idea to let Barbara move in with them before they all moved into a house in Hogsmeade, as was the plan. Two males sharing a small flat with each other was worlds different than two males sharing a small flat with one pregnant woman, as Harry had learned. It wasn't as if he wasn't allowed to go into Barbara's bathroom (read: HIS bathroom), but he wasn't really encouraged to. There was a shower stall in Sirius's bathroom, so there was really no need for him to go into Barbara's bathroom unless he and Sirius both had to go at the same time and Barbara didn't, which was an unlikely scenario. Harry hadn't had a bubble bath in a long time, though, and the bathtub was in Barbara's bathroom.

"When are we going to move into the new house, anyway?" Harry asked.

"Later this summer," said Sirius. "We've got a lot of loose ends to tie up first in London. We have to get the Dursleys out of their holding cell and into prison, remember? And you have to see Dr. Grant for a checkup."

Harry remembered how last summer, Mrs. Figg had called the cops on his aunt and uncle, and since Harry hadn't been able to testify at the time (it had been too close to the beginning of school), they had been taken to jail. And seeing Dr. Grant, his pediatrician, wouldn't be so bad. He didn't have to get any shots this time around, and he was sure he had grown some in the past year. It would be good if he didn't need to see his psychiatrist, Dr. Stefansen, though, because Dr. Stefansen creeped him out.

They didn't say anymore after that. Harry resigned himself to watching TV with Sirius. It was a "situation comedy", something Harry had gotten Sirius hooked on last summer. (Before Harry had been allowed to leave the Dursleys, one of their favorite things to do was watch TV together.)

Barbara was done in the bathroom sooner than they thought.

"SIRIUS!" she screeched.

"What is it, darling?" Sirius yelled.

"I-I can't get up!"

Sirius winced, but he got up to answer the call of duty. Harry was glad he wasn't in Sirius's shoes. The bathroom door was locked, so Sirius used the _Alohamora_ spell, and the door swung open.

This wasn't the first time Barbara had needed help getting up after spending too long in the bathroom. Technically, it wasn't much different from helping her up after she was sitting anywhere else, like on the couch, which she did a lot lately. Except in this case, there was the fact that, well, she wasn't wearing anything below the waist.

"Come on, love, stand up, grab my shoulders," Sirius was saying.

There came the sound of Barbara groaning, and then a whine of, "I _can't!"_

"You're a beautiful, strong woman who can do anything she puts her mind to," said Sirius.

 _Barf_ , Harry thought. But this seemed to make Barbara happy.

"Oh, thank you, Siri," she said, and it seemed finally she had managed to stand up, or maybe he had just hauled her up. Either way, she was on her feet again.

"Okay, now, just…just pull your tights up, and we can get out of here," Sirius told her, somewhat tentatively.

"I can't—I can't quite reach…"

"No! Don't squish the baby! Here, I'll do it…"

Harry avoided Barbara's eyes as Sirius helped her walk out of the bathroom. They went into Sirius's room and shut the door. Harry knew they wouldn't shag while he was awake and right in the other room, but they were probably going to make out. They did shag when they thought Harry was asleep—either that or Barbara was being poked violently with hat pins every night. Harry turned up the volume on the TV.

…

That night, Harry's girlfriend, Hermione Granger, called. Harry was excited to receive that phone call, even though she had called pretty much every day since they had left Hogwarts. Harry took their new phone (it was a "cordless" phone, which, astoundingly, meant you could talk on it without it being plugged into the wall) and brought it into Barbara's bathroom. (It didn't stink, like Sirius's; it smelled like air freshener.) Then he locked the door. With one hand over one ear, the other pressed to the receiver, he said, "Hello?"

"Hi, Harry," said Hermione brightly. Harry felt his stomach flip. "What's going on?"

"Oh, the usual," Harry told her. "Barbara and Sirius are being annoying."

"How so?" Hermione asked, but then—

" _SIR-I-US!"_ Barbara could be heard screeching.

"WHAT?!" Sirius hollered back.

"THIS IS EVERYTHING I _NEVER_ WANTED TO FIND IN A TOILET!"

"WELL, SORRY I'M ON _MEDICINE!_ IT'S FOR MY _HEALTH!_ THAT'S NOT THE _WORST_ SIDE EFFECT ANTI-DEPRESSANTS COULD POSSIBLY GIVE ME, YOU KNOW!"

Hermione giggled.

"That's how," said Harry.

Talking on the phone with Hermione while Sirius and Barbara shouted in the background was so embarrassing. Sirius had always had a loud voice that carried, and as for Barbara, women's voices were known to rise a full octave during pregnancy, so it wasn't exactly hard for Hermione to hear either of them.

"WHY DON'T YOU JUST GO IN YOUR _OWN_ BATHROOM?!" Sirius continued.

"HARRY'S IN THERE!" Barbara shrieked back.

"HARRY!" Sirius hollered.

"Sorry!" Harry shouted through the door. "Occupied!"

Hermione could be heard laughing again. Sirius cursed in frustration. Harry knew he would probably get an earful from Sirius later, but the non-stinky seclusion was worth it.

"I see what you mean," Hermione said, when she had finally calmed down.

" _Please_ come over for dinner tonight, Hermione," Harry pleaded. "I need a change of pace. I really do. Besides, I miss you a lot."

"Aw, I miss you a lot too," Hermione cooed. "I'm sure my mum will let me stay for dinner."

Harry figured now was as good a time as any to practice his flirting. He tried to lower his voice, the way Sirius did when he was being romantic with Barbara.

"Until then, beautiful girl," Harry said, putting all his effort into his deep, mature romantic voice, which wasn't easy, considering his voice hadn't changed yet, so it wasn't mature _or_ deep.

"Do you need a drink of water?" said Hermione, sounding confused.

"No," said Harry in his normal voice, frustrated, but then he added, "I'm just looking forward to seeing you tonight…my new girlfriend."

"You're _my_ Chosen One," Hermione said back. Harry was glad she couldn't see his cheeks turning red.

"Well, good, because I'm not just the Boy-Who-Lived," he said as smoothly as he could. "I'm also the Boy-Who- _Loved_."

But that was probably some sort of world record for bad timing, because just as Harry was saying these words, the bathroom lock clicked and the door opened. Harry stopped phone-flirting and stared at Sirius, who was glaring at him, arms crossed.

"Uh-oh…listen, Hermione, I'll call you back," said Harry, just as Sirius grabbed the phone.

"HARRY!" Sirius thundered.

It was a strange sight, Harry had to admit. Harry had been sitting down, leaning on the side of the bathtub, legs stretched out in front of him. One arm was draped over the bathtub like it would be over the back of a couch. Harry felt his face turn all shades of red as he realized how lovesick and stupid he must have looked, trying to flirt.

"I-I just wanted to talk with my girlfriend in private, that's all," said Harry defensively. "And I didn't want to do it in your stinky bathroom."

Harry saw an expression on Sirius's face that he had seen many, many times before. It was Sirius attempting to be angry, yet doing his best to fight back a laugh. Harry gave him a toothy grin.

"Well, you know what, Prongslet?" said Sirius, holding his hand out to help Harry up. "You flirt even worse than your father did."

"Can Hermione come over for dinner?" Harry asked, as they exited the bathroom, and Barbara rushed in.

"I can't believe you had the nerve to ask me that," said Sirius. "But sure."

…

Barbara cooked an amazing dinner that evening, as usual. She baked treacle tart, which was Harry's favorite dessert. Hermione sat next to Harry, and every so often, she bumped her feet into his under the table, and he did the same to hers. He figured this was flirting, too, and maybe flirting was better if you didn't plan it beforehand, or try to use a "flirting voice" that made it sound like you had strep.

Hermione was able to hold her own in conversation all the same, as usual. Talking to Hermione was never boring, because she knew so much about so many subjects. Barbara loved to ask Hermione questions about the Wizarding world; Barbara was a Muggle, so she didn't know a lot about it. Only after she had gotten pregnant with her daughter, Phoebe, had Sirius finally been allowed to tell her about his true identity.

"So tell me more about what happened last year, exactly," Barbara said interestedly as she dug into about her fourth helping of treacle tart. (Phoebe loved sweets, apparently.)

"You mean the thing with Quirrell and Voldemort?" said Hermione. (During his optional Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons last year, the first thing Sirius had taught all the Gryffindors to do was say Voldemort's name without fear.)

"Right." Barbara nodded. "I have a lot of questions about that."

"Like what?" said Sirius through a mouthful of meatloaf.

"Like how that got past someone who's supposed to be the greatest wizard who ever lived, to begin with," Barbara said dryly.

"Beats the hell out of me," said Sirius. "I always thought he was overhyped, to be honest, but you saw what he did for Gryffindor last year, remember?"

"Yeah," Barbara admitted. "That was pretty cool. Kind of biased, though."

"Nobody at this table is complaining." Sirius caught Harry's eye and winked. Harry grinned.

"You know what I've noticed, though?" said Barbara. "It's like, there's so much stuff you wizardkind can do that Muggles can't, and yet there are so many simple situations to problems you overlook. To be honest, given the choice, I might stay a Muggle. No offense, Sirikins."

"None taken," said Sirius serenely. "I can understand your sentiments. Air-conditioning? Heating? Ultrasound technology? Phones? TV? Yeah, you lot have it good all right!"

"Yes, and I said this to Harry last year," Hermione added. "Most wizards don't have any common sense. I would know, as someone who grew up in a Muggle family—not having magic turns you clever. You're forced to find other solutions to your problems. Like they say, necessity is the mother of invention. And who knows what somebody is going to invent next?"

"There's that…what did they call it?" said Barbara. "The Internet, I think it was?"

"What's the Internet?" Sirius asked.

"It's this new thing where you can hook computers up to each other wirelessly," Hermione explained. "Not many people have it yet, though."

"Hey, Pheobe kicked again!" Barbara said suddenly.

"Really?!" Hermione sprung out of her chair and ran over to where Barbara was sitting. Sirius and Harry were excited, too.

"Yeah," said Barbara. "You can feel too, if you want."

Harry didn't really feel comfortable placing his hands onto Barbara's pregnant belly, to be honest, even if it was just to feel his baby sister kicking, and since Sirius did it all the time, he let Hermione go first. Hermione put both hands on the baby bump and her ear, too.

"Hi, Phoebe!" she said happily. "I'm Hermione! I hope you remember me when you're born! I'm Harry's girlfriend…Wow, Barbara, she really is moving around in there!"

"You're telling me," said Barbara. "I'm her mother! That kid never stops moving, even when I'm trying to sleep."

"Do you think she'll remember our voices?" Harry asked.

"I don't know," said Sirius. "Childhood is like being drunk. Everyone remembers what happened except you."

…

That night, after Hermione left, Harry asked if he could take a bath in Barbara's bathroom, since Sirius's bathroom didn't have a tub in it. Sirius agreed after plunging the toilet in his bathroom. So Harry hung his bathrobe on the inside of the door and ran the water in the tub until it was about a billion degrees.

Dumbledore had given Harry some scented candles as a birthday gift last year, and Harry had never used them. Before his bath that night, he found them in the kitchen cabinet and decided to light them while he was in his bath. He also brought a small pillow, a huge bottle of bubbles, and his father's record player. He placed a classical record on the turntable and let it play. Harry also noticed that Barbara had some soothing bath bombs; he figured she wouldn't mind if he used a few, so he put those in his bath, too.

Soaking in the hot, bubbly water, listening to the soft music, smelling the candles and bath bombs, feeling his neck rest against the comfy pillow…it was _the best_. He washed his hair using some of Sirius's many hair potions, then rinsed it under the faucet.

Who knows how long Harry was in there, but he was startled when the record stopped playing. When he looked at his fingers, he saw that they were all wrinkly.

Harry climbed out of the tub and grabbed his monogrammed fluffy towel, which had the letters _HJP_ sewn into it, a surprise "welcome-back-home gift" from Sirius. Once he'd dried off with it, he rubbed his hair with the towel a couple of times, then threw it on the floor and put on his emerald-green dressing gown. Before he left, what was on the counter caught his eye.

Ever since Barbara had moved in, strange things had taken up residence in their home. Unlike Aunt Petunia, Barbara left all her toiletries and personal items scattered everywhere in the bathroom, kind of like Sirius did. The biggest difference Harry noticed was that the sink wasn't covered in small facial hairs, like Sirius's was. Well, that made sense, of course. But then Harry noticed Barbara had shaving cream and a razor lying out, which _didn't_ make sense…after all, she wore dresses, skirts and sleeveless tops a lot, and it didn't look like there was ever anything to shave. Harry had never known women to be as hairy as men were. Hmm. Her razor did look different, though—it was pink and curvy and the shaving cream smelled good, like fruit.

Barbara didn't have gel, like Sirius did, but she did have hairspray. Harry's curiosity overwhelmed his common sense, which happened far too often, and he decided it was worth a try.

"GAHHH!" Harry hadn't been looking where he was spraying, and the hairspray had gotten in his face instead of in his hair. Hoping he hadn't been blinded, Harry rubbed his eyes furiously.

"You all right in there, Prongslet?" Sirius called.

"YES!" Harry screamed back irritably. He was sure the label told you what to do if the hairspray got in your eyes, but what good was that if you couldn't _see?_ Harry couldn't help remembering what Sirius had told him, about watching James struggle with his hair for ten years straight, reminding Harry that it was useless, but Harry just couldn't give it up.

Barbara had a toothbrush sitting on the counter; it was electric, unlike Sirius's. (Well, of course Sirius wouldn't have an electric toothbrush.) She had forgotten to put the cap on the toothpaste. The hand soap smelled pleasantly of lemons, and it foamed, like Sirius's did. Her hairbrush was lying out. Harry definitely didn't want to touch that, because it had Barbara's long dark-brown hair stuck in it. Barbara had that infamous strawberry-scented perfume, which Harry never liked, and she did have deodorant, but of course it wasn't Bearglove, which was what Harry had.

There was a jewelry box on the counter, too. Harry knew Aunt Petunia had a jewelry box, but it was full of gaudy old-lady jewelry. Barbara's jewelry was much nicer and more modern. Of course she had Sirius's first gift for her, a pearl necklace, and she had other necklaces too, in both silver and gold. One had a swan for a pendant; there was a Hufflepuff House necklace, which she'd gotten at Hogwarts, a treble clef necklace, a necklace with a dog bone pendant, and many more. She had lots of earrings, too, and nail polish in all colors of the rainbow.

Harry was about to leave the bathroom when he almost tripped on something that was laying on the floor. It was a black cord hanging out of the cabinet under the sink. When Harry opened the doors out of curiosity, he found it came from a hairdryer. There was also both a curling iron and a flat iron in there. Barbara's shampoo and conditioner were under the sink (she had loads of it) and there were quite a few light pink boxes, almost all of them unopened. Harry didn't focus long on those, as he had no clue in the world what "Playtex" was, but he shut the cabinets when he heard Sirius calling his name.

"You've been in there for hours!" Sirius was saying.

"Coming," said Harry, opening the bathroom door, feeling quite refreshed. Sirius was sitting on the couch, eating pretzels out of a bowl and watching TV again. Harry asked where Barbara was.

"Sleeping," Sirius replied. "Otherwise you never would've been able to take a bath for that long."

"Hey, Sirius, can I ask you something?" said Harry, watching Sirius munch on his pretzels.

"Sure."

"Why would a woman need a razor and shaving cream?"

"What?" said Sirius, raising an eyebrow.

"I mean, what's there to shave?" said Harry.

Sirius looked mildly surprised, but he had never dismissed one of Harry's questions as stupid, so he just answered casually as he chewed on a pretzel.

"Well, Harry," he said, "you'll find women grow hair in most of the same places men do. They just shave it off."

"But they don't grow hair in the face and chest, do they?" Harry said.

"Hopefully not," said Sirius.

"My Aunt Marge had a mustache, only it was slightly less bushy than Uncle Vernon's," said Harry, remembering. " _She_ probably had a hairy chest."

" _Aaaand_ we're done with the pretzels," said Sirius in disgust, pushing his snack away. "Thanks for ruining my appetite, Harry."

Harry grinned wickedly, and Sirius threw a pretzel at him. And then, all of a sudden, he remembered something.

"Wait, Sirius, y'know what day it is?" he asked.

"Tuesday?"

"No…Dudley's birthday," said Harry. "His parents are in jail and totally bankrupt, and he's in foster care. I'm sure he didn't get any presents this year."

"Karma's only a bitch if you are one," Sirius said simply.

"Wherever Dudley is…" Harry beamed at Sirius, who smiled back. "I'm sure he's having _the worst birthday_."

 **TO BE CONTINUED…PLEASE READ, REVIEW, FAVORITE AND FOLLOW! :)**


	2. Invitation

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: I am so sorry for this chapter being EXTREMELY late. I know I have no excuse for it, but things really have been coming at me in every direction (including finals at school) and I had to put this on the backburner. But now school is almost over…so with hope I'll be posting chapters more frequently now. I hope I haven't disappointed anyone or lost anyone who was enjoying this series. Now, please enjoy Chapter 2.**

…

Several days later, Barbara and Harry were watching _Love and Lust_ on the TV in the drawing room. Hermione was on speakerphone with them, and Sirius was taking a nap in the other room. Barbara was watching _Love and Lust_ because she was feeling emotional, but Harry and Hermione were just watching it to see how stupid it was.

On the screen, two of the main characters, a man and a woman, were arguing.

"That kiss never happened!" the female shrieked.

"Well, _this_ one did," said the male in a husky voice, taking the female into his arms and proceeding to make out with her heavily. Barbara sniffed. Hermione and Harry both groaned in revulsion.

Harry was waiting for the make-out session to end, all the while very glad Hermione wasn't actually, physically sitting next to him on the couch (he wouldn't have known what to do), when there was a loud screech and through the open window flew an owl, with a note tied to its leg. The owl landed in Barbara's long, thick dark hair, even thicker and oilier due to her pregnancy.

"OWWW!" Barbara screamed, trying to pull the owl out of her hair.

"What's going on?" Hermione said over the phone.

"Barbara has an owl tangled in her hair!" Harry told her. "I'll call you back, okay?"

"Right! Bye!" said Hermione, and hung up, just as Sirius came running into the room, no doubt concerned by the sound of Barbara's loud shrieks of pain and terror as the owl, who had gotten tangled, tried to get free.

"Stop! You're only getting him more tangled!" Sirius told her, holding the owl still and trying to get him out of his fiancée's hair at the same time. "We need to calm him down, or he'll never get free."

Harry was very thankful for Sirius's special connection to the animal world, magical or otherwise, which he'd had ever since he was a very small child. The only creatures he couldn't connect with were Dark creatures, like dementors. Sirius stroked the panicked owl's feathers until it stopped hooting and flailing about and calmed down. Harry patted Barbara on the shoulder as Sirius gently, carefully untangled the owl's wings and legs.

"There you are, little guy. All better," Sirius said affectionately, perching the owl on his arm. "Now, I wonder who this letter's from?"

Barbara frowned.

"I don't think I'll ever get used to mail being delivered by owls," she said crossly.

"Oh, I'm sure you will," Sirius said lightly. "Hey—it's from Regulus!"

"Really?" Harry jumped up backwards on the couch to look. The envelope was still sealed, but Harry could see an official-looking coat of arms on the stationery.

"Yes, that's the Black family crest," Sirius explained. "Let's open it, see what it says."

Sirius opened the letter and read out loud:

 _Dear Brother,_

 _How would you, Barbara and Harry like to come over for a dinner party on the seventh? I was thinking of inviting any remaining members of the Black family (except I figured you and Harry might not want Cousin Narcissa and her family there). Your friend Remus is welcome to come too, of course._

 _Please note that the host is allergic to walnuts._

 _Regards,_

 _Regulus Black_

 _P.S. Harry, bring your broom, I want to see how you fly._

"Regulus wants to see my flying skills?" Harry asked. "Why?"

"Because he used to be a Seeker himself, for Slytherin." Sirius smiled. "When I told him you were the youngest Seeker in one hundred years, he got all excited."

"Oh, wow!" said Harry. "It'll be great to play Quidditch with him! Yeah, I'll bring my Nimbus."

"But why did he tell us he's allergic to walnuts?" Barbara asked.

"Proper pureblood etiquette dictates that when you get invited to someone else's manor, you're supposed to bring food," Sirius explained. "Naturally, the host is supposed to tell you whatever he's allergic to, so you don't bring it and cause a medical emergency…I daresay we've had enough of _those_. Additionally, his pureblood hospitality doesn't allow him to refuse anyone who comes to the house, and he has to put the dish on the table. Guests are not expected to lift a finger, but they can help out if they want."

"I thought you don't believe in proper pureblood etiquette," Harry pointed out.

"Not all of it is bad," said Sirius. "I think the pureblood supremacist and inbreeding and house-elf beheading and Muggle-hunting and Dark Magic stuff can go, yes. But there are a lot of customs and traditions we grow up learning and observing that are all right in my book. Many of them are about hospitality and being a good guest, such as not wearing your hat inside and being kind to the host family's house-elf. There's also the dueling code and dining etiquette, and boys will learn the proper way to treat women when they become men."

"How's that?" Barbara raised her eyebrows.

"Oh…you know, stuff like paying for meals, holding doors open, offering to carry heavy packages, lending her your coat, never call on a lady without flowers, stuff like that, and being happy to do it," Sirius listed. "I didn't get along with my father at all. But I can't deny that he treated my mother like a queen. You're supposed to ask for a woman's father's permission before you propose, too—that is, if the marriage isn't arranged, of course. In my day, most of them were, including the marriages of two of my cousins. That's why Andromeda got disowned, in fact. She wanted to choose her own husband."

" _You_ didn't ask for my dad's permission to marry me," said Barbara with a little grin.

"That's because my proposal wasn't planned," Sirius reminded her, smiling back. "I didn't even ask my own self."

"Well, that's all right with me, because I just _love_ a man who's bold and impulsive." Barbara's voice was smooth and a little deeper. She held out her arms and Sirius kissed her.

"Harry, why don't you go write the response to Regulus?" Sirius offered, tearing his lips away from Barbara's for a second. "Tell him we'd be glad to come."

"Fine," Harry mumbled, knowing perfectly well he was just being made to write the letter because it was now Couple Time. There was something Sirius had told him about Barbara's "pregnancy hormones" making her more likely to be… _aroused_ , but he had no idea what that was all about. He did know that it was harder for her to do a lot of things when she was pregnant, though, and he wanted Phoebe to be healthy, so he just decided to go along with it. Instead of protesting his new assignment, he walked to the kitchen table and wrote a reply to Regulus.

 _Dear Regulus,_

 _Sure, we'd love to come! I'll have Barbara cook something great that doesn't have walnuts in it. And of course I'll bring my broom! I have to say, I'm looking forward to seeing YOU fly, too, and it will be great to get tips from a veteran Seeker! See you on July 7._

 _Yours Truly,_

 _Harry Potter_

Once he was done writing, Harry folded the letter up and tied it to Regulus's owl's leg.

"Send this to Regulus. Don't get tangled up in anyone else's hair," said Harry, and the owl hooted. Harry watched it fly out the window and across London, all the way to #12, Grimmauld Place.


	3. Baking

Barbara wasn't sure what to cook for Regulus's big dinner party on the seventh at first, but finally Sirius suggested that maybe she could just make some of her famous brownies. She agreed to that, and also decided to make applesauce (one of Regulus's favorite foods, according to Sirius) and treacle tart, which was Harry's idea.

Harry was an early riser, but he expected Barbara to be the kind of person who likes to sleep in, since she seemed the type. However, it seemed she was okay with getting up in the morning, too. She explained that she used to be a late sleeper, but since she got a 9-to-5 job that required her to wake up early every morning, she might as well get used to waking up early, and she'd been that way ever since.

Barbara got up at nine in the morning, and was finished getting ready by eleven. Harry got up at nine, too, but he was ready by nine-thirty. Once they both were ready for the day, they went back into the room Sirius shared with Barbara.

Sirius was sleeping peacefully in his bed, his long hair everywhere. The covers were up to his neck, and his feet were pulled up, so he was kind of in the fetal position.

"Does he always look like that when he sleeps?" Harry whispered.

"Yeah," Barbara whispered back, giving him a grin. "Isn't it so cute?"

Harry would never use the word "cute" to describe Sirius, but he nodded, to be polite.

"Are you going to wake him up?" Harry asked.

Barbara nodded and bent down next to him (not without difficulty) and gave him a quick kiss on top of his head.

"Wake up, Siri," she said smoothly, brushing his shaggy black bangs out of his eyes.

But Sirius didn't wake up. Instead he grabbed Barbara's hand, gave it a big hug, patted it, then released it. Barbara and Harry tried to muffle their laughter.

"Do I have to sing the morning song?" she said. " _Morning's here…the morning's here…the sky is clear…"_

" _Breakfast is near…"_ Sirius mumbled, turning over in bed and grabbing Barbara's pillow.

By now Harry was laughing outright. Barbara laughed too as Harry jumped on the other side of the bed and yelled "WAKE UP!" right into Sirius's ear.

"THE FUCK!" Sirius yelled, tumbling off the side of the bed and all the way onto the floor. Barbara couldn't get up off the floor, but she laughed so hard she fell over. Harry was doubled over with laughter, one hand clinging onto the bedstead for support. Sirius glared at them.

"Good morning, Godfather," said Harry, grinning at Sirius.

"Morning, kid." Sirius gave Harry a quick hug and ruffled his hair. Then he hugged Barbara good morning, and helped her stand up.

"Thanks," she said.

"You're welcome," he replied. "Now…why did you two wake me up? I'm trying to sleep in."

"We're going to the grocery store," Barbara explained. "We need to get some ingredients for the food we're bringing to your brother's dinner party."

"I hate shopping," said Sirius, climbing back into bed and covering his head with his pillow. "You should just go without me."

"Are you sure?" Harry asked. "Don't you need anything at the store?"

"Maybe some potato chips or something," Sirius said sleepily. "But that's all."

"Very well," said Barbara with a smile. She tucked Sirius in lovingly, then gave him another kiss. Sirius's eyes opened slightly, and he gave them both a warm smile. Then he fell back asleep.

…

Most of the time, when it came to Barbara, shopping was an all-day affair. But today she wanted to get home as quickly as possible, so she could start cooking.

"So…what do we need first?" Harry asked, looking at the shopping list. "Syrup?"

"For your treacle tart," Barbara said brightly.

Barbara stopped a grocery store employee and asked him where they could find the syrup, then they headed to that aisle. Barbara scanned the shelves, looking for the best fit, when Harry, to his shock, saw a familiar-looking blonde figure at the other side of the aisle.

" _Dudley?!"_ said Harry in shock.

It was, indeed, Harry's bullying git of a cousin. Dudley's head swiveled around to look at Harry; he looked surprised, too. It was too late for him to pretend he hadn't seen Harry, though.

"What do you want?" Dudley demanded, glaring.

Harry walked over. Dudley was stocking tubs of frosting out of a large cardboard box. Harry could tell he was dying to eat it, but of course he couldn't. It seemed that nearly a year of living in foster care hadn't been nice to him, though. He had lost weight, but he was still extremely fat, and he looked rather sickly, now, too.

"Um…what are you doing here?" Harry asked awkwardly.

"What does it look like?" Dudley gestured to the merchandise he was stocking. "I got in trouble for picking on some kids in the foster home, and they made me work at the grocery store as punishment."

Harry didn't know whether to laugh or not. It was great that Dudley had gotten his comeuppance, but Harry wasn't sure what foster life was really like. He decided it would be a better idea to change the subject instead.

"How was Smeltings?" he asked.

"I didn't _go_ to Smeltings," Dudley told him furiously.

"Why not?"

"Because Dad couldn't pay the tuition after you sued him," Dudley said back. "I had to go to Stonewall, where _you_ were supposed to go, and you got to go to that—that—"

"Hogwarts," said Harry.

"Right. Now why don't you just go and join your rich godfather?" Dudley turned away and slammed a tub of frosting onto the shelf, so much that it almost exploded.

"Don't break that can of frosting," said Harry. "You'll have to pay for it, and I don't think you can really afford that right now."

The livid look on Dudley's face was priceless. It was a cheap shot, but maybe this was just payback for the countless times Dudley had preyed on Harry. Now all Dudley had gotten for his birthday was unpaid labor at the grocery store. Harry had to remember to tell Sirius.

Barbara and Harry picked out all the ingredients they needed for the applesauce, the brownies and the treacle tart. The brownie ingredients weren't hard to get as they already had most of those ingredients at home—eggs, sugar, butter, flour, etc. They just needed to buy cocoa powder and vanilla. Barbara made all her meals from scratch, so they needed every ingredient for everything.

"Barbara? Can I ask you something?" said Harry as he rolled an apple all around in his hands. Barbara was teaching him how to pick out the best ones.

"Sure, what?"

"Well…d'you think I could help you do the cooking?" Harry asked tentatively.

"Really? Thanks, Harry!" Barbara smiled. "That would be great."

Harry remembered cooking with Sirius back when just the two of them had lived together. It had been fun, although Sirius could cook a very limited number of dishes. Barbara could cook anything, and Harry thought it might be fun to help, plus he'd possibly become a better cook than Sirius was, and that was important.

"I'd like to learn how to make the treacle tart, especially," Harry told her. "Sirius said I don't need to know how it's made to be able to enjoy it, but I'd love to be able to make it for myself. So…is this a good apple for the applesauce?"

"I think so," Barbara said approvingly. "Did you squeeze it?"

Harry squeezed the apple. It felt firm.

"Yeah," he told her. "It seems fine to me."

"It's a very colorful one," she said. "That's a good sign, too. When apples have full color, it means they've absorbed a lot of sunlight, which makes for great-tasting apples. Good job."

Harry beamed and carefully set the apple into the plastic bag, so it wouldn't bump into the others and bruise. They needed a lot of apples to make applesauce.

Once they had finally picked out all their groceries and gotten to the check-out counter, Harry helped Barbara place everything on the conveyer belt, and the cashier rang them up. Just before she totaled it, she said to Harry, "You and your mother must be cooking up something big."

"Oh, I'm not his—" Barbara began, but Harry put his hand on her arm.

"Yeah," said Harry, smiling at Barbara and then at the cashier. "Yeah, we are."

To say Barbara looked shocked would be quite the understatement. Her hazel eyes were wide as she dug around in her purse for her credit card (turns out it was actually in her pocket) and swiped it. Then they pushed the cart of groceries outside.

"Harry," said Barbara as soon as they got outside. She was about to bend down to be eye-level with him, but then decided that might not be such a good idea. "When the cashier thought I was your mother…I mean, what about Lily?"

"Nobody could replace her, or my dad, either," Harry replied. "But you're the closest thing to a mother I've ever had. You know my aunt never meant anything to me. But you mean a lot to me."

"Oh, you mean a lot to me too, Harry," said Barbara tearfully, hugging him tight. "And soon…as soon as Phoebe is born…"

"We'll be a proper family," Harry finished, and Barbara squeezed him even tighter.

…

When they got home, it was time to cook. They started with the applesauce first, because they wanted the apples to be as fresh as possible, plus it was the easiest, according to Barbara.

"Harry, would you like to peel the apples?" Barbara asked. "I'll slice them into pieces after you do. Kind of like an assembly line."

"Right."

Barbara peeled the first apple for Harry, showing him how to do it so he wouldn't peel his fingers off by accident. Then, getting the hang of it quickly, he peeled them and passed them to Barbara, who was slicing them into equal pieces so they would all cook at the same time. Then they put them all into a huge bowl, threw in some spices (Harry put in a little bit of lemon juice, and Barbara cut up some fresh sticks of cinnamon). Then they added spices like cinnamon, nutmeg and ginger.

Finally, Barbara asked Harry if he wanted to be the one to ground up the apples. He did want to, so she handed him a potato masher and told him to mash the apples up until he thought they were smooth enough.

Harry liked the applesauce chunky. So he didn't grind them up very much, just as much as he thought was necessary. Then Barbara handed him a spoon and told him to taste the mixture (to see how much sugar they might need). She explained that some apples were sweeter than others, so you never really knew how much sugar to add until you tasted the applesauce.

They ended up adding about a teaspoon of sugar, then mixing it in a little more. Finally, it was done. They let Sirius taste it, and he said it was just like the kind Kreacher made for them when they were kids. They baked the brownies after that, then the treacle tart.

"You know, Harry, sometimes being pregnant really makes me stressed out," Barbara confessed as Harry hunted for the powdered sugar in the cabinets and she stirred in the flour. "But cooking always really helps relieve me of stress."

"Did you ever think of actually being a chef—you know, for a career?" Harry asked. "Choose something you love for your job, and you'll never work a day in your life. That's what they say."

"I…I don't know," said Barbara. "I mean, I cook for fun, and because people love my food…but I never thought I would do it as my job. It seems like such a hard field to break into."

"Regulus did it," Harry reminded her.

"But he started the business," she said. "It's the entrepreneurial stuff he had to be good at. I'd have to get a job at somebody else's restaurant, and as I don't have any experience cooking professionally, I don't think there's any way I'd get a job."

"At least think about it?" said Harry. "Any restaurant you worked at would be more popular tenfold."

Sirius walked into the kitchen at that point.

"Smells good in here," he said. "Brownies baking?"

"You know it," Barbara told him.

"Could I taste the batter?" Sirius asked hopefully.

"No, it has raw eggs in it," Barbara reminded him. "You can have one when we're finished."

"If I can wait that long." Sirius grinned and gave her a kiss on the cheek.


	4. Black Manor

Finally, it was July 7, 1992…the day of Regulus's big dinner party. Harry invited Ron and Hermione. Regulus didn't know them, but Harry knew Regulus's pureblood hospitality didn't allow him to turn away anyone who came to his manor.

Barbara drove everyone to the dinner party in her little Ford Fiesta. Ron's dad dropped him off at Harry's flat (Ron had brought fudge and cheesy casserole, both courtesy of Mrs. Weasley) and then the four of them drove off to fetch Hermione before they went to the party. (Remus lived all the way out in Yorkshire, like Barbara's grandparents, so he was going to Apparate there.)

"Driving looks so hard," said Ron, observing Barbara driving. (Barbara's car had two seats in the front and three in back, so they would just be able to squeeze Hermione in.) "I don't know how the Muggles do it."

"Well, it's not really that hard, but then, I did fail my first driver's test," said Barbara.

"You have to take a _test?"_ Ron seemed shocked.

"Yeah," said Sirius. "It's not unlike the Apparition test, I suppose."

"How did you fail?" Harry asked.

"I clipped a trash can and then panicked and swerved into a mailbox," Barbara admitted. Everyone burst into laughter, and so did she.

"Don't feel bad," Ron told her. "My brother Charlie failed his first Apparition test."

"What's Apparition?" Barbara asked him, turning around in the seat.

"It's moving from one place to another instantly," said Sirius.

"Nice." Barbara looked impressed. "I wish I could do that."

"You can do Side-Along Apparition, which is where you transport yourself along with someone who can't," Sirius told her. "Although not now, because pregnant women aren't supposed to Apparate."

"Don't worry, Barbara," said Harry. "You're not missing anything. Sirius says a lot of grown-up wizards don't bother with it. They just travel other, safer ways, even if they take a little extra time."

"Is this the place?" said Barbara, pulling up in front of a huge apartment complex.

"Looks like it," Sirius replied. "Harry, do you want to go inside and get her?"

"Yes," said Harry, getting out of the car. Like she said she would be, Hermione was waiting in the front lobby, holding a package of store-bought cupcakes. She smiled when she saw Harry.

"This will be the first time I've ever been to a wizard house," she told him. "I'm so excited."

"I am too," said Harry. "But be warned, Sirius says his house is a little spooky."

"Bats?" Hermione smirked. "The moans of ghosts in the attic?"

"Well, I don't know about bats, but he says it's haunted by his relatives who used to live there."

"They can't be that bad," said Hermione with a shrug. "There are ghosts at school, aren't there? If we can deal with the Bloody Baron, we can deal with Sirius's family ghosts."

When they first got into the car, Harry made sure Ron was sitting on the end seat, so he would be sandwiched right between his two best friends (one of whom was also his girlfriend). It was a tight squeeze, since Barbara's car wasn't very big. But it wasn't _so_ bad being close to Hermione.

"Hello, Hermione," said Sirius.

"Hi," she said, smiling and buckling up.

The three of them decided to play car games to pass the time. They played "I Spy", although they could guess almost none of the things Hermione spied. They played that game where you tried to find the car with the license plate from the farthest place away, and the game where you try to find all the letters of the alphabet. They took turns with that game, and actually found all the letters.

They had made a bit of a detour to pick up Hermione, but since Regulus lived in London just like the rest of them, it wasn't that long of a drive. There was a lot of traffic, but Barbara didn't have road rage, although sometimes people had road rage because of her, it seemed.

"Okay, you'll have to give me directions," said Barbara, speeding through a yellow light. Several people honked. "Where is this place?"

"Just keep going," Sirius told her, looking a little unsettled now that they were getting closer. "I'll tell you when we're there."

Harry saw that as they drove by, the buildings got a lot less nice. They were driving in a dodgy area for sure. There were several homeless people by the side of the road, and some were even in the street, holding their hats out for spare change.

"Oh no," said Barbara.

"Just don't hit him," Sirius told her. "Keep going."

"Okay…" Barbara put her foot on the gas and swerved to avoid hitting the homeless man.

Finally, after several more minutes of driving, Sirius said abruptly, "Stop."

 _SCREECH._ Barbara slammed on the brakes, and if Harry and his friends hadn't been wearing seat belts, they would have been catapulted forward into the front seats.

After Barbara had parallel-parked the car by the side of the road (not without some difficulty), they all unbuckled and got out. Harry looked around as Sirius was helping Barbara out of the driver's seat. It was a small square, and definitely more than a little seedy-looking. The houses had broken windows, peeled paint, and garbage sitting outside the front steps, like somebody had swung the garbage bag out the front door instead of taking it out and putting it in the can. As they got closer, the unpleasant smell of garbage juice hit Harry's nostrils. Barbara put her hand over her mouth in disgust (Harry remembered her sense of smell, like Sirius's, was stronger, albeit for a very different reason).

"Sirius, are you sure—" she began.

"I'm sure," he said grimly. "Now, everyone stand back."

"It's a magically hidden house!" Ron said in realization. Sirius nodded silently, the look on his face unusually stern, and straightened up to face the alley between houses eleven and thirteen. Harry realized, like Ron, that Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place was hidden magically in between numbers eleven and thirteen.

"Most Noble and Ancient House of Black, I request entrance," Sirius recited. "May only the purest of Wizardkind walk through the house of my fathers."

And, just like that, Grimmauld Square began to shake. Numbers eleven and thirteen moved slowly apart, and in between them was the door of another house. Next came the walls and windows. They looked like they had been in bad shape before, but it seemed Regulus had made an effort to shape them up. When the big house had emerged (it was indeed a manor, the biggest house Harry had ever seen), it seemed like it had pushed numbers eleven and thirteen out of the way.

As soon as Black Manor had grown into sight (although it seemed the Muggles didn't notice it) the party of five approached the door. The door knocker was a silver, twisted serpent. There was no keyhole or mailbox. Sirius grabbed the knocker and rapped loudly on the door three times. For a minute there was no noise at all…and then the door swung right open. It seemed it hadn't been locked (that made sense, thought Harry, seeing as they were expecting guests).

"Oh, Sirikins! How _wonderful_ to see you again, are you all right?!"

Harry didn't recognize the woman who was smothering Sirius with hugs and kisses. She looked to be in her mid-to-late sixties, though. She had a kind face and a high-pitched voice.

"Aunt!" Sirius howled, trying to get away. Barbara giggled.

"Nephew!" the woman cried, and before releasing him, gave him a sloppy wet kiss on the cheek, leaving a big red lipstick mark.

"Harry, Hermione, Ron, Barbara," said Sirius, straightening his robes and looking ruffled. "Meet my Aunt Lucretia. She's my dad's sister."

"Don't forget Phoebe's Great-Aunt!" Lucretia added, looking distinctly misty-eyed.

"How did _you_ know about Phoebe?" said Barbara in shock, her hands instinctively flying to the baby bump.

"Well, her name's on the family tree, isn't it?" Lucretia said happily. "When a new Black family member is conceived, a leaf on the family tree grows for the baby. Once they're given a name, the name appears. Regulus was showing me how he restored all the people who had been blasted off the tapestry—I never approved of it, myself, after all—and I saw Phoebe's name on the tapestry, right under your name, Sirius." She turned her attention to Barbara. "You'll make a wonderful mother."

"Oh…well, I'll try my best," Barbara said, sounding embarrassed.

"Can we see the family tree?" asked Harry. He wanted to see Phoebe's name on the tree.

"Of course," said Lucretia, grabbing Sirius's arm and hauling him to their left.

"Who else is here?" Sirius asked her. "And where?"

"Everyone's down in the kitchen," Lucretia told him. "Well, except dear Narcissa and her family…Regulus said there would just be too much tension, you know…but Andromeda is there, with her family, not to mention Cassiopeia and Cedrella…"

"Ron, that would be your grandmother," Sirius added.

"Grandma's here?" said Ron. "I didn't know she was part of Sirius's family."

"Well, she is," said Lucretia. "Ahh…here we are!"

They had entered a drawing room. There was a low ceiling, but the room was very large; Harry imagined that back in the day, this house had entertained many important pureblood witches and wizards. It gave a distinct air of being "dated", but the hardwood floors looked brand new.

"I remember there being carpet here," Sirius noted. "But I guess Reg realized it was out of style and tore it right off. Good for him."

The curtains were moss-green and tapestries hung all over the walls, but it was easy to tell which one was the family tapestry. It was big and purple, covering the entire wall. It was old, but you would still see the family tree, embroidered with shimmering gold thread. Harry looked near the bottom, and sure enough…Right underneath the name _Sirius Black III_ , there was the name _Phoebe Black II._

"Phoebe Black II?" Sirius questioned.

"Yes, I thought you named your daughter after this Phoebe." Lucretia pointed farther up, about halfway through the family tree. There was another Phoebe Black, one of Sirius's distant ancestors, born almost two centuries ago.

"Must be a coincidence," said Sirius. "We looked up the name in Hermione's astronomy book."

"So glad to see you're following the family tradition," Lucretia said proudly. "Now, do you want to meet everyone else?"

"Of course," said Sirius. "It'll be nice to see Andromeda, Ted and Nymphadora again."

They headed out of the big drawing room and into the foyer again. Lucretia and Sirius walked a little quieter when they passed through. Harry and his friends didn't know why, but they followed suit.

Lucretia led them down the steps into a dimly lit, basement kitchen. Like the drawing room, and probably most of the rooms in the house, it was very big. There was a fireplace at one end of the room; pots and pans hung along the stone walls, and there was an old, large dresser in the corner. There was a big table, and the room was crowded with Black family members. The first person to greet them was Remus, who had gotten there earlier. He gave hugs to all five of them, then straightened up with a smile.

"How nice to see you all again," he said. "And it's been great meeting some of your family members."

"And reuniting with others!" added an unfamiliar female voice behind him.

"Andromeda?" said Sirius in disbelief. "Is that you?"

Remus moved aside. Harry didn't know how he would have imagined Andromeda as looking (he had never seen her nor either of her sisters in the flesh). But she was pretty and young-looking. Her hair was a light brown, and her eyes were kind, like Lucretia's. She was about a head shorter than Sirius.

"In the living flesh!" Andromeda said happily, punching Sirius in the arm.

"Cousin Andromeda!" he yelled, punching her right back. Then he embraced her in a tight hug.

"And you must be Barbara Raffelovich," said Andromeda, reaching her hand out to shake. "I'm Andromeda Tonks. Nice to meet you."

"H-Hi," said Barbara nervously.

"Don't look so nervous," Andromeda told her. "Although if you're going to bring a Muggle to a wizard house for the first time, Sirius, this isn't exactly the best choice."

"It is pretty scary," Barbara admitted.

"Sirius! Sirius!" They were interrupted by yet another witch. She had blindingly pink hair, and unlike the older witches and wizards in the room, who were all wearing heavy robes made of silk and linen, she was wearing artfully ripped jeans and a black "Weird Sisters" T-shirt.

"Nymphadora!" Sirius lifted the younger witch up in the air and swung her around.

"Aren't I getting a little old for that?" she said, laughing.

"My goodness, you are," Sirius said. "Last time we met, you were knee-high to a grindylow. And now, here you are, all grown up."

"Not to mention, I'm training to be an Auror," she said proudly. "And I go by Tonks now, since Mum is a fail at naming."

Remus and Tonks led Sirius and the rest deeper into the crowded kitchen. That was where they ran into another witch, one who looked even older than Lucretia. She had dark red hair, almost brown, tortoiseshell cat-eye glasses, a walking cane shaped like a Slytherin serpent, and a strict look on her face. She was wearing Slytherin-green robes.

"Hello, Cassiopeia," said Sirius, looking a little nervous. Cassiopeia, in reply, put her hands on his sunken cheeks.

"I don't expect they fed you well in that horrid place. You're so _thin_ ," she said. Her voice reminded Harry of one of his stricter teachers back in Muggle primary school. Then she glared at Barbara. "I do hope you feed him well."

"Um…I-I try," said Barbara.

"Barbara feeds us all well," Harry told her helpfully, but Cassiopeia glared at him as well.

"Children are to be seen, not heard," she said firmly. "Do not speak unless you are spoken to."

"Now, Cassiopeia—" Sirius began, but Cassiopeia put her hand over his mouth.

"That includes you, young man," she said strictly.

Sirius looked embarrassed, but Harry (not to mention Ron) were trying to hold in their laughter. Barbara wasn't trying to hold in her laugh at all, but she stopped once Cassiopeia gave her a glare, too.

"Sorry," she said meekly.

"I noticed _your_ name wasn't on the family tree," Cassiopeia remarked. "I _do_ hope you're going to marry her, Sirius."

"Why? I thought you didn't like Muggles," Sirius said shortly.

"Well, in _my_ day, women got pregnant _after_ they were married," she said in a sniffy voice, shooting a reproachful look at Barbara, who withered.

"I-I'm sorry," she repeated in a whisper, her hazel eyes filling with tears.

"Sorry isn't good enough," she snapped, waving her snake cane at Barbara. "What would Walburga say, knowing her first grandchild was a bastard—"

"I'm _sorry!"_ Barbara wailed for the third time, bursting into humiliated tears, then she bolted right out of the stone kitchen and up the stairs out into the hallway. Sirius's face was red, just like hers, except his was with anger.

"WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!" he shouted. Everyone in the kitchen stopped talking and turned around to stare. "YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW HER, YOU CAN'T JUST FUCKING JUDGE HER LIKE THAT, WHO D'YOU THINK YOU—"

Sirius was interrupted by a sharp slap across his face; Cassiopeia pulled her wand out of her robes and snapped, _"Scourgify!"_

At her words, a bar of soap appeared in Sirius's mouth and started scrubbing it. Harry remembered how Sirius had used the same punishment on Malfoy last year for calling Hermione a Mudblood.

"How _dare_ you talk to your elders that way, young man!" Cassiopeia scolded. "You need to learn some manners! And you say one more word until you've scrubbed out that rubbish can you call a mouth!"

Sirius wiped the remainder of the suds off his tongue.

"I'm thirty-two years old, Cassiopeia!" he hollered. "I won't be treated like a child!"

"Come on, now, break it up, break it up!" said another voice. It was Andromeda. "Is this any way to behave, Cassiopeia? You haven't seen Sirius in _years_ , and he _just_ got out of Azkaban a year ago, what are you thinking? Where's Barbara?"

"Don't you talk back to me, young lady," Cassiopeia began, but they were interrupted by a high-pitched, petrified scream from up in the foyer, followed by another scream, this time one Harry didn't recognize….but apparently, Andromeda and Sirius did.

"Oh, no," Sirius groaned.

"Come on, we have to rescue her," Andromeda added, and they both ran up out of the kitchen, too. Harry, curious to see what was going on, followed, Ron and Hermione close on his heels. By the time they got to the foyer, all the portraits in the hallway were screaming and yelling. Barbara was cowering on the floor, her hands over her head, her face streaked with tears. The horrible voice that had once been howling was now shouting words at her.

"MUDBLOOD FILTH! HOW DARE YOU INFECT OUR NOBLE FAMILY LINE WITH YOUR PUTRID, DIRTY BLOOD! BEGONE FROM THIS HOUSE AND TAKE THE PARASITE WITH YOU!"

"Okay, okay, I'm leaving!" Barbara tried to get up but stumbled, then got up again, heading for the door, sobbing hysterically as all the portraits screeched insults at her. Sirius stopped her just as her hand was on the silver doorknob.

"Calm down," he told her, holding her tight as she cried into his shoulder. "They're just portraits, they won't hurt you."

While Sirius was trying to console Barbara, Andromeda was running up and down the hall, Stunning the yelling portraits with her wand.

"Someone help me shut these curtains!" she said, pulling on the velvet curtains, which covered the portrait Harry realized had been screaming at Barbara—an ugly old woman wearing a black cap, shouting words Harry had never heard before but he knew they weren't nice, apparently unable to handle the fact that two disowned children and a Muggle were in the foyer with her. It was Sirius's mother.

Harry grabbed the left curtain like Andromeda, while Ron and Hermione grabbed the one on the right. Andromeda screamed at them to pull, and they all did, finally managing to get the curtains shut. Silence fell; Harry's ears were ringing.

"You were right, Andromeda," Sirius said sadly, rubbing Barbara's back. "This is a horrible place for a Muggle to visit…"

"They're—they're _alive!_ They're all alive," Barbara moaned, holding onto Sirius as tightly as she could.

"No, they're not," Andromeda said kindly, patting her on the shoulder. "You'll see, Barbara. They're just paintings, really, that's all."

Barbara finally pulled away from Sirius, half-angry, half-traumatized.

"It doesn't matter," she said miserably, wiping her eyes. "None of them want me here."

"No way," said Andromeda. " _I_ want you here. So does Sirius. Cassiopeia is just too old-fashioned, not to mention, like, eighty years old."

"She was using that cane back when I was a kid," said Sirius, "and not just for walking."

"Ouch," said Barbara.

"Sirius stuck up for you," said Hermione, who had been unusually silent. "But he just got slapped for it."

"Slapped? Why?"

"Because they like to do that, remember?" said Sirius darkly.

But Barbara still didn't look consoled.

"I'm a Muggle. I'm not their kind," she despaired, in a choked-up voice, all too telling that she was holding her tears in again. "I got too lost in…in _your_ world."

"It's _our_ world, Barbara," Sirius insisted. "You know there's no part of this world I could take on without Miss Brownie."

"They're just a bunch of stuck-in-the-past dried-up old prunes," Andromeda added. "The older generation was raised on Grindelwald's ideals. They just can't handle the fact that times are changing."

"Who's Grindelwald?" said Barbara.

"Eh…that's a story of a different time," said Sirius uncomfortably. "In short, though, he was kind of responsible for a lot of the pureblood bigotry that's around today. He was convinced that wizardkind was the superior race, and that he should rule tyrannically over the Muggles and Muggle-borns alike."

"Muggle-borns like my husband," Andromeda added. "You're not alone, Barbara. They just need some time to, well, adjust, I guess."

"But how...how am I ever going to get them to like me?" Barbara asked helplessly. "Or at least _tolerate_ me? How can I make them see that even though I can't do magic…I can't be _that_ different?"

Everybody was quiet, until Harry was struck by inspiration.

"I have an idea," he said, grabbing Barbara's hand and pulling her back downstairs.


	5. Amazing Things

Regulus had been busy organizing the entire dinner party. By now, Harry imagined, he was used to that sort of thing, even though he saw #12 Grimmauld Place as kind of his sanctuary from work. As soon as everyone was _finally_ done mingling and catching up, and Ron was _finally_ done getting kisses from his grandmother Cedrella, and Cassiopeia was _finally_ done lecturing Regulus about not inviting Narcissa and her lovely family, the Emperor seated them all around the table and had his house-elf, Kreacher, help pass out the food. But he gave Kreacher a seat at the table, too. Not even Walburga and Orion had approved of letting Kreacher eat at the table, but Regulus didn't mind.

"I'm not so sure about this," whispered Barbara, leaning across Sirius to talk to Harry (Sirius was on Harry's left side, Hermione on his right). "Can't you just tell me what your plan is?"

"It's a surprise," he told her. "But trust me, it will work."

Barbara gulped and swallowed, but didn't say anything more. Harry spotted all the foods people had brought, as well as the food Regulus and Kreacher had provided. Harry wondered if most of these people had their house-elves cook the food. Hermione was the only one who had brought something store-bought.

"Mm- _mm_." Cassiopeia was chewing her food politely, like any respectable pureblood witch should, but you could tell she was enjoying it. "Kreacher, you cooked it extra-well this time."

"Which one, Mistress?" Kreacher asked her (he was sitting in Regulus's old high chair).

"Well, you cooked your Master's favorite, didn't you?" she continued. "But you must've improved over the years, I've never tasted applesauce this amazing."

"Kreacher did not make applesauce today," said the old house-elf, confused.

"Then who did?" Cassiopeia demanded, swallowing. "Who brought this applesauce? I must know!"

"I-I did," came a barely audible voice from across the long wooden table.

"You?" Cassiopeia raised her eyebrows at Barbara, so that the cat-eye glasses slipped a little down her nose. "It couldn't have been _you_. It's impossible to make food that good without magic."

"Well, she did," said Harry. "She does it every day."

"There's something you might not realize about Muggles, you know," said Andromeda's husband, Ted Tonks, with a slight smile on his face. "They don't have magic, so they have to think of other ways to get along. You'd be surprised with the progress they've made."

"I have a Muggle mother and a wizard father, sort of like Phoebe, you could say," Remus added. "My mother, like Barbara, was capable of magic only when pregnant with me, and it was very basic magic at that. Once I was born, she didn't have the magic in her anymore, but there were all kinds of things she knew how to do that my father couldn't comprehend."

"Get this," said Sirius. "The Muggles have invented something that will actually let a woman see her baby inside her before it's born, so we got a picture of Phoebe sucking her thumb. I brought it along in case anyone wanted to see."

Regulus, who had spent nearly thirteen years living along Muggles, didn't look surprised at all. Neither did Remus, Ted Tonks, Ron or Hermione. But all the other witches and wizards clamored to get a look at the baby in utero. There was a great scraping of chairs, the rustling of heavy, expensive robes, shrieks and tears from some of the women, impressed grumblings from the men.

"I know _just_ what to do with this!" cried Lucretia, grabbing the photo from Sirius's hands and running up into the drawing room. Everyone followed her.

"Aunt Lucretia, what are you…?"

Sirius's question was soon answered. Aunt Lucretia, beaming with tears in her eyes, ran straight to the family tree and right where the new name _Phoebe Black II_ glimmered on the tapestry, she smacked the photo down, securing it with a Permanent Sticking Charm.

"I'll get you a new one, too, Sirius honey, just let me do a duplicating spell…" Lucretia began to wave her wand again, but Sirius stopped her.

"Don't worry," he laughed. "I had the doctor print out two copies, in case we lost one."

"You had him do what?" Lucretia asked, confused.

"Muggles can duplicate things, too," Hermione explained. "We do it with magic, they do it with science."

"What's science?" Cedrella asked interestedly, quite like her son.

"It's kind of hard to explain, since I was never very good at science," Barbara said. "But it's kind of just…it's how we discover new things. For example, Muggles don't have wands to shoot fireworks out of, but we create them with something called pyrotechnics."

"Pyro meaning fire," Regulus added, no doubt harking back to the Latin and Greek (in this case, Greek) courses he and Sirius had been required to take as part of their very expensive education. "I've lived with many a resourceful No-Maj over the course of my career, and it's been a great learning experience."

"No-Maj…" Cassiopeia shook her head. "I still don't understand how you could go and live in America with those heathens, Regulus. I would expect it of Sirius, but not of you…Even the wizarding folk in America, they don't respect the old ways, they have this terrible notion that—"

"They support house-elf rights," Regulus told her. "House-elves are all free there, and work for pay. They have wands, too."

"Master Regulus says Kreacher is free to go if he pleases, but Kreacher does not wish to go," Kreacher said firmly from his high chair. Harry noticed how he was wearing an expensive silk pillowcase with the Black family crest and motto embroidered on the chest and back. It was strange, thought Harry, that the clothing of a creature who was technically enslaved, with however gentle of a Master, was probably lightyears more comfortable than his own.

"Come on, everyone, let's go back to the dinner table, please," said Andromeda. Sirius and Barbara were staring at Phoebe's ultrasound photo on the tapestry, and everyone else was either marveling at Muggle science or scorning it. When they got back to the dinner table, Harry nodded to Cassiopeia and then pointed to Barbara's brownies.

"Try these," he said. "Try to guess whether they were cooked with magic or not."

Cassiopeia grabbed a brownie and bit into it. She forgot to eat politely this time, and the sounds she was making were the kind of sounds only associated with either extreme pleasure or intense gastrointestinal distress. It was definitely the former, everyone could tell, so they grabbed brownies, too, some using their wands to Summon them, others just reaching across the table.

"Magic!" insisted Cassiopeia. "Are they Molly's, Ron?"

"They're Barbara's," said Ron, pointing to her.

"You cooked them without magic?" Cassiopeia was just shocked. "Are you sure it wasn't Phoebe's magic?"

"No," said Harry. "She cooked them before she was pregnant and they were just as good."

"Aunt Narcissa is a witch," Andromeda's daughter, Tonks, piped up, "and she can't cook to save her life. All she can cook are these horrible chili dogs that—"

Sirius shuddered. " _Please_ don't mention those atrocities, Nympha—I mean, Tonks."

Tonks grinned at him.

"Hey, maybe I could show her how!" Barbara said brightly. "I know how to make chili dogs."

"I don't know if she'd have you," Harry said doubtfully, thinking that if Mrs. Malfoy was anything like her son, she'd turn a Muggle away at the door, pureblood hospitality be damned.

"I'll talk some sense into her," Cassiopeia said flippantly. "You know, Bertha, I have to say—"

"It's Barbara."

"Yes…Barbara," Cassiopeia continued. "Maybe some Muggle things…just really aren't that bad after all. Even if you gave me the recipe of these brownies, I don't think I'd be able to cook them, not even with magic."

"When I first met Barbara, I always thought, I didn't know you could cook like that without magic," Sirius agreed. "But you know what? I think we all need to open our minds."

"If I hadn't opened my mind, I never would have survived back in Chicago," Regulus pointed out.

"And my dad wouldn't have met a lot of his friends, or my mother," Harry said.

"I never would have met the love of my life," Andromeda added. Ted beamed at her.

"Just as my father never would have met his," said Remus.

"And I wouldn't have met mine," Sirius said contentedly, slipping his hand into Barbara's.

"Well…" Cassiopeia sighed and with what looked like a tremendous effort, continued, "I suppose if I don't open mine, I could never learn a few important lessons."

"Like what?" Barbara still seemed afraid of Cassiopeia.

"Meeting you has shown me that…"

"Muggles are humans, just like we are?" said Sirius, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, I suppose so," Cassiopeia said uncomfortably. "You've done amazing things. I never thought I'd see Phoebe Black II at all, much less sucking her thumb before her birth. And you do feed Sirius well."

"I think you owe Barbara a hug," said Lucretia, unusually strictly.

Barbara looked terrified, but Cassiopeia got out of her seat, walked over to Barbara, put her arms around her, squeezed for a second, then let go. They both laughed uncomfortably, then sat back down.

"Th-thanks?" Barbara said uncertainly.

"Now isn't that nice." Lucretia seemed serene as she looked at the both of them. "Let's finish off these delicious brownies."

…

After the dinner party, the Blacks and the other guests headed back up to the drawing room to digest and gossip. Many of them kept staring at Phoebe's picture on the tapestry. It didn't move, but that seemed to fascinate them even more. Harry liked looking at the picture too, but when he went to ask Sirius what he thought, his godfather was nowhere in sight. Harry downstairs into the kitchen to look for him. To his surprise, he was sitting on the table and drinking grape juice. Regulus was sitting in a chair.

"Is that grape juice?" he said, looking at his brother in an amused sort of way.

"I've given up drinking," Sirius told him proudly, taking a long sip from the can. "Grape juice kind of helps me with the cravings, y'know?"

"If you say so."

"You know, I still can't believe…" Sirius sipped his juice again and gestured towards the kitchen. " _Look_ at this place. You're here with nobody but Kreacher. You're sure you don't get lonely?"

"I told you, Sirius, it's peaceful, not lonely," said Regulus. "Besides, it's been nice catching up with Kreacher. We've been trying to clean up the house, but usually after work I'm so tired I can barely even take off my pants, much less attempt some DIY project."

"DIY projects are pretty hard," said Sirius, "but I did one with Barbara's father and grandfather. We built a crib for Phoebe. But don't tell Barbara, it's a surprise. I've got it magically shrunk and hidden in our room, and once we buy the new house, I'm going to put the crib in the baby room. Harry and I are going to design it…you can help if you want."

"I _might_ be able to," said Regulus. "After all, I'm Phoebe's uncle. But I can't promise you I'll have time."

"You were always too hard on yourself, Reg," Sirius said, shaking his head in exasperation. "No time for anything but the restaurant. Haven't you ever heard the phrase 'focus on the family'? What about that?"

"Focusing on the family is what landed me in Chicago to _begin_ with, in case you've forgotten."

"You know what I mean, little brother," Sirius said, now grinning. "Where's the Empress to rule by your side?"

"Sirius, please, stop," said Regulus, turning red in the face. "I-I just don't see starting a family of my own as a priority."

"Every home needs a woman's touch," Sirius insisted. "My old studio was proof of _that_."

"It's just…" Regulus sighed. "The right woman doesn't really seem to be out there. What if there's only one perfect woman for every man, and I've already missed her?"

"See, Mum loved you so much, she should've known nobody was ever going to be good enough for you," said Sirius jokingly. "There's no such thing as the perfect woman, okay? Barbara certainly isn't perfect. If she was, she would be a much better driver, for example…But on the bright side, it's made her really good at talking her way out of tickets."

"But I kind of wanted to date a witch, you know," Regulus told him. "Not necessarily a pureblood, perhaps, but I would prefer it…I think Mom would have wanted a pureblood grandchild, anyway. And it would be great if it was someone who could help with the business…you know, somebody outgoing and funny, who would be good with promotions and all that. Someone who cares more about being friendly than being pretty."

"That's right, Reg, you aren't alone," Sirius said. "You might have felt alone in America. But now you're with your family again. If you found a girl who could help you with your business, why, you might just have time for a wife after all."

"I know she's out there," Regulus mused. "And if I see her, it'll just hit me. I'll just…I'll just _know_."

"Now, don't go talking like that," Sirius warned. "I didn't 'just know' when I first saw Barbara. I mean, I was fresh out of prison, I'd flirt with anyone who was decent-looking. But something good came from that initial date. I promised her a motorcycle ride, and afterwards we went to her flat. She cooked me dinner, we did a lot of talking, and I ended up spending the night."

"Congrats…" Regulus rolled his eyes. "You made love on the first date."

"Well, you know what?" Sirius said defiantly. "When I woke up in her arms, I _didn't_ feel like bolting before she woke up. I actually wanted to stay with her. So there."

"That may be fine for you," said Regulus, "but I like to take things slow, you know that. The only time I'm fast is when I'm on a broomstick."

"Oh, that reminds me…" Sirius smiled. "Harry brought his broomstick. It's in my pocket."

"Wonderful, I did want to see him fly." Regulus jumped up from the table. He was undoubtedly looking forward to Quidditch, but Harry felt he was just as eager to wrap up the relationship discussion. Harry headed back up to the drawing room, so the Black brothers would have no clue he was eavesdropping.

…

Flying with Regulus was great, not least because Harry got a fair amount of Quidditch tips. Arguably, he could have gotten similar advice from James had he been alive, but James had never been a Seeker. Regulus was, and he was amazing at it. After proclaiming that Harry had a huge amount of talent just waiting to be tapped into, he taught Harry all kinds of moves. He had a Snitch, which the two of them both tried to catch. Regulus won more often because he was more experienced and skilled, but Harry was immensely talented, so he caught it a fair few times, too. All of the other guests were spectators on the lawn behind the house.

"That really is great, Harry," said Regulus. "I'll have to come to your games once school starts up."

"But what about when we play Slytherin?" said Harry, grinning. "Are you going to be supporting them or me? Remember, Houseism runs deep…"

"I'll give up Houseism for one day, if it means supporting my brother's godson," Regulus said serenely, and Sirius could be seen beaming as if somebody had told him they'd finally managed to get Walburga's painting off the wall. Lucretia gushed about how Regulus showing Harry all these moves was a beautiful "passing of the torch".

"Let's just hope none of the other teams fly in and put that torch right out," Harry said in warning as they all walked back into the house from the back door.

"Now, where's my walking cane?" said Cassiopeia, getting up from where she was sitting on the lawn. "It was my wedding gift from the Gaunt family, I just don't want to lose it…"

"Here, Cassiopeia," said Andromeda, handing it to her. Harry looked closely at the snake cane for the first time since he'd encountered Cassiopeia. Its eyes looked strangely alive, and if you looked closely, you could almost hear it… _saying_ things to you, even though that was impossible. And nobody else seemed to feel that way, not even Cassiopeia.

"Hi there, what's up?" Harry said jokingly, looking directly into the snake's eyes. But instead of laughing, or even just ignoring him, Cassiopeia looked down at Harry as if he had grown an extra head. Everyone else did, too, even Sirius. In fact, Sirius was the first person to say something—the very first thing Harry could remember Sirius saying to him, in fact, from their first meeting last summer…

"Are you speaking _Parseltongue?"_


	6. The Runaway

"Am…am I speaking what?" said Harry nervously. He didn't like the look on Sirius's face.

"Sirius!" said Cassiopeia, who didn't look alarmed, but rather thrilled. "Did _you_ teach it to him?"

"What—no, of course not!" Sirius snarled. "That's not even possible!"

Harry looked around at all the Blacks. Some of them were looking amazed and confounded, although almost none of them seemed displeased. But the others were a different story. Even Ron and Hermione looked terrified. Harry didn't know what was going on.

"How _did_ you get it, Harry?" Tonks asked curiously.

"H-How did I get what?" said Harry, now feeling not just nervous but a little panicked. He jumped when he felt Sirius's hand clamp painfully onto his shoulder.

"Come on now, back to the car!" he hissed, grabbing Harry's broom and sticking it into his pocket. "Barbara, dear—we're leaving now, come on…"

Barbara looked all too happy to leave. Sirius grabbed her hand and helped her walk to the car, his other hand still on Harry's shoulder, steering him. Ron and Hermione ran behind them.

"Sirius," said Harry, "what're we—"

"Moony!" Sirius called over his shoulder. "Meet me back at the flat ASAP. Reg, you too."

Remus nodded and vanished into thin air. So did Regulus.

On the way back, Harry didn't talk much, nor did anyone else. Barbara slammed on the gas, looking confused and worried. She seemed to be the only one besides Harry who had no clue what was going on. Ron and Hermione were exchanging anxious looks; they knew something Harry didn't.

When they got back up to the flat, Regulus and Remus were waiting for Sirius in the main entryway.

"Listen, Sirius, can I Floo Dad? To let him know the party's over?" Ron asked.

"Go ahead," said Sirius. "Hermione, want to call your parents?"

"Um, sure, thanks," Hermione said, and dashed to the living room, where the cordless phone sat charging on the coffee table.

"Harry," said Sirius firmly, brow furrowed, "stay in your room for now, all right? I'll be up to talk to you later."

With that, he shut himself in the kitchen, along with Regulus and Remus, locking the door magically as he did so—which meant _Alohamora_ wouldn't work. Now what?

Brimming with curiosity and concern both, Harry crept to the kitchen door as Hermione conversed with her parents and Ron went to use the fireplace, grabbing some Floo powder off the mantle. Barbara gave Harry a nervous glance.

"What's going on?" he asked her.

"I-I don't know," said Barbara. "But, Harry…I was worried about you...it was like you were having a seizure or something. I know because my godmother's sister used to have them."

"What do you mean?!"

"Just, like, you looked a little dazed," she said worriedly, "and then it was just—"

Barbara made a sort of spitting noise, like a cross between a gurgling baby and someone trying to beatbox but failing horribly at it.

"But I don't remember that," he told Barbara. "All I did was look into that cane's eyes—they looked… _alive_ , almost…"

"I'll go into the kitchen to 'get a snack'," Barbara said wisely, "and I'll 'forget' to shut the door again when I leave. But not a word to Sirius, got it?"

"Thanks," Harry told Barbara, feeling immensely grateful towards her. She walked around to the other door that led to the kitchen, and Harry followed her. That door wasn't locked. She opened the door and wandered in.

"Barbara?" Harry heard Sirius ask.

"I'm hungry," she whined. "Or, Phoebe is."

"Well, there are leftover brownies, I'm sure," Sirius told her.

Harry heard Barbara open the fridge and grab a tin of brownies. Sirius waited until she left the room again before he resumed his conversation. Barbara, stuffing her face with brownies, raised her eyebrows sardonically and pointed towards the opened door with her thumb.

"How do you suppose it happened?" Regulus was saying. "Sirius—was his father a Parselmouth?"

"No," said Sirius sharply. "James would have told me something that big…and I would've noticed it after ten years anyway."

"Well, then…" Remus started, but then his sentence drifted off into nothing.

"The only Parselmouth family I knew were the Gaunts—the ones who gave Cassiopeia that accursed cane as a wedding gift," Sirius said grimly. "I remember them because they'd always give me the creeps whenever they came to our house. They'd sit there hissing and spitting in the drawing room all night—talking to their stupid snakes—if you think _my_ family were Dark wizards—"

"Well…isn't that what everyone always says about Parselmouths?" Regulus whispered. "You know…that anyone who can talk to snakes is a Dark wizard basically on principle?"

"Who's 'everyone'?" Sirius snapped.

"Oh, you know, Sirius…" Remus looked from one Black brother to the other, fear in his eyes. "This is bad. Really bad."

"Because you two know who else is a Parselmouth, don't you?" Regulus looked almost sick with worry. _"The Dark Lord himself."_

Harry felt like he had suddenly been struck by a heavy object. _Voldemort_ had been a Parselmouth, just like Harry. Harry wasn't completely sure what being a Parselmouth entailed, but from what the three wizards in the kitchen were saying, it sounded like an ability to talk to snakes. And snakes had everything to do with…

"Slytherin," Sirius mumbled, pinching the edge of his nose. "Salazar Slytherin. The only way Harry could possibly be a Parselmouth is…is if he's a direct descendant of Slytherin himself. You two know that, right?"

"Well, the Dark Lord took great pride in—"

"Blimey, Reg, would you quit calling him that?!" Sirius barked.

"Sorry," said Regulus quickly. "Force of habit, you know—we weren't allowed to say—"

Sirius looked ill, and Remus looked like he didn't know who to be worried for the most. Finally, he said in his calm, even voice, "Sirius, think logically, please…Harry can't possibly—"

"Moony, just think of how it will be if this gets out," Sirius said, his voice cracking. "Harry doesn't deal with being in the spotlight well, nobody can deny that. He doesn't lean into it and embrace it like James did. If anyone finds out he's—he's _related_ …"

"To Slytherin?" Regulus finished.

"Not just Slytherin, Reg," Sirius said helplessly. "To _Voldemort_."

Regulus flinched a little, but if Sirius or Remus noticed, they overlooked it.

"It…it _is_ plausible," Remus said uncomfortably. "Voldemort is related to Slytherin through the Gaunt family, too. Gaunt was his mother's maiden name."

 _Too?_ So it was a _given?_ Harry sank down to the floor, his heart beating furiously, his mouth dry. But if he was known for defeating Voldemort, how on Earth could they be related? Did Voldemort even know they were related?

Regulus seemed to be thinking along the same lines as Harry.

"If he knew, Sirius, he never mentioned it," he said in a defeated tone. "But…I mean, I left before Harry was even born."

Regulus's earlier words kept swirling around in Harry's head. _Isn't that what everyone says about Parselmouths?_ Dark wizards on principle…did that mean that Sirius, Remus and Regulus all thought Harry was going to be a Dark wizard, just because he could apparently talk to snakes?

Harry glanced into the drawing room. Ron and Hermione were both long gone by now.

 _They think I'm a Dark wizard_ , Harry thought. And then he remembered what Sirius thought of the Dark Arts…what his father had thought of the Dark Arts…how the Dark Arts were what had ultimately killed his parents…Blood was rushing so loud in Harry's ears, he couldn't have heard any more of what the three were saying, even if he had wanted to, and he didn't. He had heard enough. He'd had enough.

For a moment, Harry considered bringing his trunk, broom and Hedwig along. But no…think of who he could still harm…Sirius wouldn't want Harry around anymore, this Harry knew—he was just going to leave before Sirius could kick him out. The only thing he took with him was some Muggle money, shoved quickly into his pocket.

 _There's nobody to take you in_ , Harry reminded himself, taking one last glance around the apartment where so many happy things had taken place…and now it all seemed rigid and unyielding. He couldn't go to Ron's—not only because he didn't know where Ron lived, but also because that was the first place Sirius would look. But then, why would Sirius look for him? Why would he want a kid who was destined to be a Dark wizard? _Sirius can be happy with Barbara and Phoebe, his REAL family_ , Harry thought, as hot tears stung his eyes.

For some reason, as Harry rode downstairs in the elevator, he thought of Dudley. Where had Dudley gone after Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia got sent to jail? Foster care…well, it wouldn't be paradise, but at least Harry wouldn't know anyone there. And the only way he could get there was…

Harry hailed a taxicab and asked for a ride to the police station. If anyone could help him get set up with the foster system (even though Harry knew nothing about it) it would be the police. Before he knew it, he had arrived at the station. He paid the cabbie and didn't look back as the car sped away.

The police station wasn't very busy at this time of night, but Harry still saw some officers on duty. There were police cars and unmarked cars both in the parking lot. Harry only hoped he wouldn't run into Robert, Barbara's father.

"How can I help you, son?" said one of the desk sergeants.

"I-I need…I need a new home," Harry told him feebly.

"What?" said the policeman sharply. "You're a runaway?"

Harry gulped and swallowed. "Yes."


	7. Parselmouths

The desk sergeant looked at Harry in a scrutinizing way.

"What's your name, son?" he asked.

Harry knew the policeman was just asking for his name so he could look him up and call Sirius to come pick him up. He couldn't let that happen.

"Sebastian Sterling," said Harry, making up a name on the spot.

"And why did you leave home?" the policeman continued, still giving Harry that calculating look.

"Well, because they don't want me anymore," Harry told him, even though he really didn't want to get into the matter. "I-I knew a kid who went to a foster home. That's where I should go."

"Wait here, Mr. Sterling," said the desk sergeant, pointing to a metal chair by the front door. Harry sat down, watching the dark sky outside, the clear sky where countless stars shone above, wondering which one was Sirius, the brightest star in the sky. Music was playing in the lobby. It was a song Harry recognized—"Total Eclipse of the Heart." The song that had been playing when Sirius caught Peter Pettigrew at the Halloween party last year…when he had made up with Hermione after their fight…Hermione in her flower child costume, Harry in his pirate costume, hugging as light filled Harry's heart, the same heart that now ached with unbearable hurt…and, most of all, guilt. He _was_ Slytherin's heir, after all.

The full enormity of what Harry was doing hit him at that moment. He would never see Ron or Hermione again, although they had seemed afraid of him, too, after they learned he could speak Parseltongue. Back he would go into the Muggle world. He could barely stand it; a part of him wanted to go back, but the other, the one that was making the decisions right now, reminded him that he would rather be _anyone_ but the Famous Harry Potter right now. Anyone. Especially—

"Sebastian?" said an unfamiliar woman's voice out of a doorway to Harry's right.

The woman was wearing a cotton sweater and a long wool skirt. Her hair was a long, curly chocolate brown, and she was smiling, but in a sad way.

"I'm Lanie," she said, sitting down next to him. "I hear you were thinking of running away."

"Not thinking," Harry told her, firmer than he felt. "I _am_ running away."

"And why is that?" asked Lanie. Harry didn't think she knew this, but he knew who she was. She was sort of like Dr. Stefansen, that is, a "mental health professional". They thought she would be able to get to the root of the problem, or even talk him into going home. Well, Harry wasn't six. He wouldn't fall for it, no matter how much social worker training she'd had, or whatever they told her to say to him.

"Because my family doesn't want me anymore." Harry crossed his arms and glared down at the ground.

"How do you know?" Lanie asked, her brow furrowing. "Did they say that?"

"Well…no," said Harry, "but I did something bad, really bad."

"And you're running away because you don't want them to find out?"

"No, they did find out, everyone was there when it happened, and I heard them talking about it, and—and I'm a different person to them now," Harry told her, trying to keep his voice steady, to sound calm and unconcerned, but it wasn't working as well as he had hoped. On the inside he felt distinctly rattled, and all night he'd felt close to tears. How could Regulus's dinner party have gone so wrong?

"Well, did you try talking to your parents?" Lanie asked.

"I'd love to," Harry told her, "but they're dead. I'm living with my godfather and his fiancée. Or, I was."

Lanie looked even more sympathetic to him now. Harry hated it. If there was one thing he didn't want, it was pity.

"I'm sorry," Lanie said. "But, Sebastian, you have to realize, just because you did one bad thing doesn't mean your family won't love you anymore. You need to express to them how you feel."

"I don't like talking about how I feel," Harry told her, scowling.

"But Sebastian, it won't help to just—"

"You don't understand," Harry insisted, his voice rising in pitch, his throat feeling sore. "It wasn't something like doing drugs or skipping school…it even made me wonder who _I_ am."

"Maybe if you tell me what you did, I can help," Lanie pressed.

"No, you can't." Of course, Harry couldn't tell Lanie what happened because she was a Muggle, but that wasn't the only reason. "I just want to leave. I want to leave and never come back."

Lanie seemed to be trying to think of something to say when the desk sergeant reappeared at his desk.

"We can't locate Sebastian's family," he told her. "I only found one family living in the city with the last name Sterling, and they'd never heard of a Sebastian."

"It's because I'm an orphan," Harry told him. At least that part was true.

"Oh, dear," said the desk sergeant. "Well, what's your guardian's last name?"

"I'm not telling you," Harry snapped. "If I do, you'll make me go back."

"Mr. Sterling, we don't put children in the foster home just like that," said the policeman, snapping his fingers. "Not if they have a family waiting for them back home."

"They're not waiting for me," said Harry.

"Come on," said Lanie. "Let's take him into the back room and get him some food. Let me know if anyone comes by looking for him."

Lanie and the desk sergeant, who Harry learned was named Officer Hanson, gave Harry a tuna fish sandwich, an orange, and a cookie, but he didn't eat them. He had the feeling they thought he was a lot younger than almost twelve, but he was used to that by now.

The minutes ticked by as Harry sat staring at his uneaten food, wondering what was going to happen to him. People walked in and out of the station for various reasons, none of which Harry really cared about. He knew they were probably on the phone with anyone they could think of. Of course the police were going to try and find his family, but Sebastian Sterling didn't have a family to find. The sound of a car backfiring outside barely fazed him.

But he was surprised when Officer Hanson entered the room…with none other than Sirius behind him, pale as a ghost.

"Harry!" he cried, rushing to where Harry was sitting at the table and hugging him so hard Harry was actually lifted off his feet. Sirius didn't seem inclined to let go, either.

"Sirius?" said Harry in shock, but his voice was muffled by the hug and drowned out by Sirius.

"I can't believe you're safe, Harry, you could have been anywhere," said Sirius almost hysterically, and then to the police officer, "I can't thank you enough, Officer…However did you find him?"

"We didn't find him," said Officer Hanson in a bemused sort of way. "He came here."

"What—why?" said Sirius.

"Well, he was running away," Officer Hanson told him by way of explanation. "He asked us to put him into the foster system and he wouldn't tell us your name. He said he was never coming home."

"You—you ran away?" Sirius said in disbelief, turning to Harry. "You did this on _purpose?"_

"Well, er, yes and no," said Harry nervously, since Sirius's cheeks had turned from stark white to bright red, and the sound of broken glass rang throughout the room as one of the overhead lightbulbs shattered. "Except not no. So, um, yes."

"Come on, Harry," said Sirius, grabbing Harry's arm. "We're going home. Thank you again for finding him."

Harry wasn't looking forward to what would happen when they got home, and he was right. Sirius Apparated them right back into Harry's room; Harry sat on his bed, dreading his reprimanding. Sirius had a loud enough voice to begin with, so when he raised it, the resulting din was almost deafening.

"HAVE YOU ANY IDEA HOW _WORRIED_ I'VE BEEN?!" Sirius shouted, slamming Harry's bedroom door behind him. "WE TRIED EVERYONE—DUMBLEDORE, HERMIONE, THE WEASLEYS—MOLLY'S OUT OF HER _MIND_ WITH WORRY, YOU OWE HER AN APOLOGY! YOU COULD HAVE BEEN _CAPTURED_ , YOU COULD HAVE BEEN _KILLED_ , ONE OF VOLDEMORT'S GOONS COULD'VE SNATCHED YOU UP AND—D'YOU THINK I WANT TO FIND MY GODSON'S DEAD BODY LYING IN THE STREET? IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT? IS IT? DO YOU _ENJOY_ THESE SADISTIC STRAINS ON MY BLOOD PRESSURE, HARRY? YOU DAMN NEAR GAVE ME ANOTHER HEART ATTACK WHEN I SAW YOUR BED EMPTY! BUT DID YOU CARE? _NO!"_

As Sirius shouted the last word, one of the lightbulbs in Harry's room shattered, too, and several sparks shot out of the wand in Sirius's pocket. Harry couldn't get a word in edgewise.

"You better explain this shit to me RIGHT NOW!" Sirius yelled, pointing at Harry. "You had a LOT of people worried!"

Sirius had never been so angry with Harry, not even last year when he had risked his neck by going into the Forbidden Forest with Ron and Hermione. Now Harry knew what Barbara meant when she said her ex-boyfriend, Jackson's, shouting was much worse than if he had hit her. That feeling as if Harry had been struck with a heavy object was back, except it wouldn't go away.

"It…it was because I'm…" Harry couldn't say it—that he spoke Parseltongue and was probably related to Voldemort and the Gaunts, the family that had scared Sirius so much as a child. It turned out Sirius hadn't been planning on kicking Harry out or giving him away to an orphanage—but after tonight, he probably would. Harry didn't finish his sentence; when he tried to find words, instead he found tears, and before he knew it he was crying for real, but he didn't care. And finally—

"That will do, Harry," said Sirius, sitting down next to Harry on the bed. His tone was unintelligible, although his voice was a little hoarse.

"I-I thought you d-didn't want me anymore," Harry managed to get out, but he couldn't stop crying. "I-I was just going to—to leave…b-before you k-kicked me out."

"But where did you get that idea?" Sirius asked, confused. "What happened?"

"You know what happened. I spoke snake language."

"Oh God, Harry…" Sirius put his hand on Harry's shoulder. "Is that what this is all about?"

"I overheard you talking to Remus and Regulus in the kitchen," Harry admitted, finally lifting his head up to look at Sirius. "You said—you said I was related to Voldemort and that I was a Dark wizard."

Sirius was biting his lip; his eyes were sad, like Lanie's had been. His movements were gentle.

"That's not what I meant, Harry," he said, putting his arm around his godson. "I just meant that some people are stupid, and that they might _think_ you were a Dark wizard. We were just trying to figure out what was going on, how this could have happened."

"But what about me being related to Voldemort?" Harry said, voice quaking, and in a half-sob, "What would my dad have thought about that?"

"Harry, look at me," said Sirius; Harry raised his head up to look into his godfather's eyes. "If there was one thing I learned from your dad, it was that you should judge people based on _who_ they are, not _what_ they are."

"W-What do you mean?"

"Well, look at the company he kept," said Sirius. "He hated Slytherin, but he hung around me, and my whole family has been in Slytherin. He trusted Remus and he didn't care if there was nobody magic in Lily's family. You're a good kid, Harry, you're not Voldemort. And if he was still alive, I'm sure your dad could have seen that better than anyone. I suppose he'd be surprised, but it wouldn't make him love you any less. And the same goes for me."

Harry looked over at the reindeer toy sitting on his bed, the one with the antler ripped off, feeling sorry for himself. Sirius seemed to notice it, too, and grabbed the toy, setting it into Harry's arms.

"He's not as gone as you think," Sirius said quietly, his hand on Harry's shoulder.

Harry swallowed. "Sirius, can I tell you something?"

"Sure," said Sirius, sounding bewildered. "Anything, mate."

"Promise you won't kick me out?"

"Promise."

"Well…okay," Harry said. "The Sorting Hat tried to Sort me into Slytherin last year, Sirius. It said I would do well in Slytherin."

There was a slight pause; Sirius looked surprised, but then he gave a steely sort of laugh.

"You aren't as alone as you think," he said matter-of-factly. "Who else do you think sat on that stool twenty years ago, wishing the same exact thing—"

"Not Slytherin," they said at the same time.

"And I'd take the Sorting Hat's decisions with a grain of salt sometimes anyway, to be honest," Sirius continued. "Let's face it, it's not always right on the money. When the Founders put the brains in that thing, I think they must have been a bit short. It's too prone to family legacies."

"How did you find me, anyway?" asked Harry.

"After nobody we knew had any information, Barbara suggested I file a missing persons report at the police station," said Sirius. "So I went there and asked them if they'd seen you. They mentioned somebody named Sebastian Sterling...but it was actually you. And you don't know how relieved I was. I had no idea what happened."

Harry didn't know what to say to this. Luckily, they were interrupted by a gentle knock on the door.

"May I come in?" Regulus almost whispered.

"Certainly, Reg," said Sirius. Regulus entered the room and sat down on the other side of Harry.

"I thought you might want to talk to me, too," Regulus said kindly, smiling at Harry. "As you can imagine, I know a little more about this than Sirius does."

"Oh—of course," said Harry. Regulus was a Slytherin, and he had once worked for Voldemort (although he hadn't really carried out any Death Eater missions).

"Being a Parselmouth isn't bad, Harry," said Regulus. "It just kind of gets a bad rap because Slytherin is always turning out Dark wizards, and because Voldemort is a Parselmouth."

"But you said Parselmouths are Dark wizards on principle."

"No, Harry, again, that's what some people might think," said Sirius. "You know, because they're stupid."

"Or that they just don't know any better," said Regulus logically. "Salazar Slytherin was really big on snakes, you know. He even made it the symbol of his House. Voldemort has his pet snake, Nagini, who he's _way_ too attached to."

"My guess is that someone from the Gaunt family married into the Potter family, and the gene was passed down, apparently passing over James and his parents," Sirius explained. "Parselmouths are born, not made, after all. But like Regulus said, we want you to understand that this isn't inherently a bad thing. I might have thought it was at first, but what of all that talk of opening our minds?"

"This isn't exactly normal, or common," Regulus added. "But it's okay."

"Yes," Sirius agreed. "We don't want you shouting it from the rooftops or anything—"

"Believe me, I won't," said Harry.

"But it's nothing to feel ashamed of," Sirius finished. "Like they say, it shouldn't matter to anyone who matters. What matters is who you are on the inside—Harry. Just Harry."

"Not the famous Harry, right?" said Harry, as Sirius pulled him into a hug. "Just the normal kind?"

"Every kind," said Sirius, ruffling Harry's hair. "I'm sorry for yelling."

"No, I know you were just concerned," Harry told him. "I'm sorry for running away."

"Besides, who are you to yell at him for it?" Regulus added, looking unusually cheeky. "I remember another certain runaway at sixteen years of age."

Harry grinned, and Sirius laughed. And all three knew that even after this "interesting development", things were going to be okay.


	8. Matchmakers

For the next few days, Harry avoided snakes as much as he could. He definitely wouldn't go near one if they were ever to go to the zoo again. It was okay to watch cartoon snakes on TV, but not real ones, because if he watched one in, say, a nature special, he could understand what it was saying (mainly that it didn't like being filmed).

But the subject was driven from Harry's mind when, eating dinner one night with Barbara, Sirius and Remus at Crescent Cottage, Sirius asked Harry if he would like to be in the wedding.

"In…in the wedding?" said Harry, surprised. "You mean your wedding to Barbara?"

"Yes," said Sirius. "You could be a groomsman."

"I don't know," Harry told him uncertainly. "What if I mess it up?"

"There's not really anything to mess up," Remus assured him. "You just kind of stand there."

"But you do get to walk down the aisle with one of the bridesmaids," said Barbara, her hazel eyes gleaming.

"What are you having your bridesmaids wear?" Sirius asked. "Are you going to be one of those 'Bridezillas' who absolutely has to have everything her way?"

"No," said Barbara. "The bridesmaids are allowed to pick out their own dresses—they just have to run them by me first. No pantsuits, though. This is a wedding, not an office party. Leis are okay, though." She paused in thought. "Y'know, I might require everyone to wear leis."

"Hmm…what about a bachelor party?" said Sirius, looking at Barbara a little tentatively. "Have you got a problem with that?"

"Not if you don't have a problem with my bachelorette party," Barbara replied. "Just have fun, don't get any diseases and don't get killed."

"Damn," said Sirius admiringly, "my fiancée is cool."

"Cue eye roll from Moony," said Remus dryly. "Besides, what about Harry? He's too young for a bachelor party. I mean, I suppose we could leave him with Molly and Arthur…"

"Harry's old enough to stay home by himself," said Sirius unconcernedly. "He could bring Ron and Hermione over for a movie night or something."

Last time Harry had Hermione over for a movie night, it had been without Sirius's permission, so Harry was surprised Sirius agreed to it this time. But then, nothing had "happened" last time, and it wasn't likely to, so maybe Sirius felt Harry could be trusted.

"Very well," said Remus, shrugging. "He's your godson."

"And there's plenty of time for that at Harry's own bachelor party," Barbara added.

Harry was used to adults talking about him like he wasn't there, or like he was there but couldn't understand them. But he was sure the adults weren't doing it to be nasty—in fact, they probably weren't really even aware they were doing it. Maybe this was something that happened to almost all kids sometimes.

As if reading Harry's thoughts, Sirius turned to his godson and smiled.

"Well?" he said kindly. "Does that sound okay?"

"It sounds fine," Harry told him, returning the smile and, meaning every word, "I'd rather be with Ron and Hermione than at a bachelor party, anyway."

"Who else are your groomsmen going to be?" asked Barbara.

"Well, there's Reg as best man, and Remus, and Harry…" Sirius counted on his fingers. "I don't know. I just never thought I'd get married."

"I definitely wanted Tonks to be a bridesmaid, if she's okay with it," said Barbara. "I really liked her. Her mother, Andromeda, could be in the wedding, too, plus her husband, Ted—then they can be paired up. And of course, Hermione can be a bridesmaid."

"So Tonks will be paired up with Reg, Andromeda will be with Ted, and Hermione will be with Harry," said Sirius. "But who will be with Remus?"

"If I may say," said Remus, sounding as if he was choosing his words very carefully, "perhaps it would be better if I were the one to walk down the aisle with Tonks?"

"Why?" said Sirius sharply.

"Because not only would it look a bit strange if he walked down the aisle with his cousin," said Remus, "but also because I agree with Sirius that something is missing from Regulus's life. Perhaps by searching for a maid of honor, we can also play matchmaker for Regulus."

"Hey, woah," said Barbara. "I don't want some girl I hardly know being my maid of honor just because she likes Regulus."

"She doesn't have to be," said Sirius. "Tonks could do all the regular maid-of-honor stuff, or maybe Andromeda—she's really good at being neat and organizing things. This mystery girl just has to walk with Regulus and hold the rings and bouquet."

Barbara was gaining enthusiasm.

"Hey, yeah!" she said excitedly. "It would be great to be a matchmaker! We could design posters to attract witches everywhere!"

"Self-made billionaire British-born American reformed pureblood Quidditch-loving wizard seeks leading lady," said Sirius dramatically. "I can see it now."

…

Together, Remus, Sirius, Harry and Barbara put together a great advertisement. Regulus paid for the ads, not because he knew what they were really advertising for, but because he thought they were just advertising for a maid of honor. He took out a two-page full-color ad in _The Daily Prophet_ , as well as _The Quibbler_ (Luna Lovegood's father's magazine), _Witch Weekly, Playwitch_ magazine and _The_ _New York Ghost_. The interviews were to be held in the Three Broomsticks, a café in Hogsmeade.

Less than twenty-four hours later, the replies came streaming in. Harry and the others questioned each of the witches personally, along with Tonks, who wanted to be a judge too.

The first witch to come in was wearing a feather boa, a revealing cocktail dress, and stiletto heels. Her hair was dyed-blonde and permed; her talon-like fingernails were painted blood red. She seemed to be at least fifty years old. When she spoke, her voice was croaky.

"I found your advertisement in _Playwitch_ ," she said huskily.

"I'll bet you did," Sirius muttered.

"Sit down in the chair, please," said Remus courteously, indicating the interviewee chair. "Name?"

"Candy," she drawled.

Quite sure this was not her real name, Harry decided to ask her the first question.

"Why do you think you'd be right for Regulus?"

"Because then I can stop being a stripper. Body's not as tight these days, y'know," she said, taking a cigarette out of her purse and lighting it with her wand. She took a deep drag on it and sighed contentedly. "And isn't the bloke thirty-one?"

"Well, yes, he is," said Tonks, looking put off. "But aren't you a bit—"

"Old? Yeah," she breathed. "I like that cougar thing."

She puffed on her cigarette again, wafting an unpleasant smell of smoke Harry's way; he coughed.

"Will you put that thing out already?" Sirius demanded. "My fiancée is pregnant, you know!"

"And you're at risk for heart disease, Siri," said Barbara, patting him on the arm.

"That's right," said Sirius, glaring at Candy, who shrugged and put the cigarette out on her arm.

"But…how do you think you match up with him, personality-wise?" asked Tonks, consulting their list of questions. "For example, how—my God, who added _this_ one?"

"I did," said Barbara, smirking. "How sexually dominant are you, on a scale from 1-10?"

"12," Candy replied promptly, a wicked grin spreading across her face. She had several gold teeth and her real ones were almost as yellow.

"Okay, let's try another one," said Remus. "What role do you believe love and affection play in your life?"

"Honey," Candy said, looking at Remus out of blood-shot eyes, "love and affection passed me by a while ago. For twenty Sickles I'll gladly—"

"All right, that's enough," Sirius said sharply. "Candy, we'll contact you if you get the part. Next!"

"Are you going to have women like that at your bachelor party, Sirius?" Harry asked curiously.

"No," Remus said firmly.

"Exactly, Moony," Sirius agreed. "I can afford _much_ better entertainment than that."

Remus glared, but didn't say anything. The next person didn't walk in right away, but they heard her talking in the hallway.

"Sit down and eat, darlings," she was saying. "Mummy will be back in a minute—hey! Weren't there four of you? Tyler, come back here and enjoy your snack—Ashley! Your sister's hair is NOT for pulling—"

There came the sound of a scuffle, and finally a young woman, perhaps a bit older than Regulus, stomped into the room, looking more than a little hassled. She had a sleeping, red-faced baby strapped onto her front.

"Sorry," she said. "Children will be children."

Harry was sure everyone was wondering the same thing—where the kids' father was, and whether the woman was just looking for a new father for them to complete her dream family.

"All right then," Remus began as she sat in the interview chair. "Name?"

"Sally," she told them. "My husband left me about a year ago, and I'm ready to be remarried. Does this Regulus like kids? I have five."

"I'm not sure where Reg draws the line," Sirius said uncertainly. "Five might be too much to handle."

"Why?" asked Sally.

"Well, he works twelve to fourteen hours a day, five to six days a week," Sirius explained. "He's an entrepreneur. He didn't get all that money by sitting on his ass all day."

"His fortune could pay for much higher-quality day care than I can afford now," Sally began sadly, "but I don't want more day care. I want a father for my kids."

"What about a husband?" Barbara asked tentatively.

"Meh," she said.

The judges looked at each other skeptically—but then the baby started to cry. And stink.

"Is he…is he okay?" Barbara asked uncertainly.

"It's a she," said Sally indignantly. "And she's just got a dirty diaper. Good-bye."

"We'll tell you if you got the part," said Sirius dryly after her.

"Jeez," said Barbara, once Sally and the baby had left. "Don't get angry with _me_ for thinking it's a boy. It's _your_ fault you didn't dress your daughter in gender-specific clothing."

The next woman who walked in was wearing a pantsuit, just like Barbara didn't want the bridesmaids to wear at her wedding. She was carrying a briefcase, and her hair was in a pixie cut.

"What's your name?" Remus asked her as she sat down—although she wasn't really sitting. She was on the edge, like the chair could burst into flames at any moment.

"Laurel," she said in a strict voice. "And let's make this quick, I have a call at two."

Harry looked at his watch. It was 1:38.

"You have plenty of time," he said.

"That's what it seems like to you, boy," said Laurel, "but as you grow you'll learn the value of time. My day is mapped out down to the minute in my day planner. I do hope this Regulus doesn't like to be spontaneous, because I require at least a week's notice before all outings."

"Why did you think you would be right for him?" Sirius asked.

"Well, I'm a career woman," Laurel told him. "And I can tell he's a career man. Together, we could make the ultimate power couple."

"But what about children?" Barbara asked.

"Children?" The expression on Laurel's face reminded Harry of the way the Dursleys used to look at him. "What _about_ children?"

"Regulus wants to have at least one or two kids," Barbara explained. "But I think he's got to man the restaurant full-time…and it's hard to squeeze in a career when you have kids, y'know? Personally, I would choose family over career any day."

Harry knew any Hufflepuff would say that. Laurel was probably an ambitious Slytherin, like Regulus. There was a possibility for them (she was the most normal so far, and Regulus said he wanted somebody who could help him with the business) but what if they disagreed on whether or not to have children? And what if Laurel was too ambitious in her own career to help Regulus with his? Regulus believed in family, like Barbara, but he just didn't have time. Harry could tell Laurel didn't really like kids either way.

"Yes, well," said Laurel, and there was just a smidgen of condescension in her voice, "what _was_ your career?"

Her eyes flickered to the baby bump.

"I didn't really have a career," said Barbara.

"She was a secretary," Harry told Laurel. "And a really good one too. That's how she met Sirius."

"This is 1992, boy," said Laurel sharply. "It's called an _administrative assistant_. And it's not professional to flirt with your boss's clients, in my opinion."

Barbara looked slightly hurt, but fired back, "Well, at least I don't wear stupid pantsuits that make me look like a lesbian."

The two of them were definitely at odds—Barbara in tights and a maternity shirt that read "Future MILF", over a foot of dark-brown waves tumbling down her back and around her shoulders, wedge shoes on her feet, toenails and fingernails painted bright yellow; Laurel in her crisp gray pantsuit with her blonde hair in a pixie cut, leather flats and fingernails painted dark gray.

"This is 1992," Laurel repeated. "It's time we said goodbye to the skirtsuit."

"But I _like_ the skirtsuit!" Barbara said in a slightly whiny voice. "Plus I get to pick a matching pair of high heels to wear every day! I'm only wearing wedge shoes now because high heels are a bit, erm, optimistic if you're pregnant—"

"Women like you are a monkey wrench in the wheel of Society," Laurel snapped. When Barbara started to cry, Laurel rolled her eyes as if to say she'd made her point, but that was when Sirius lost his temper.

"TAKE THAT BACK!" Sirius hollered, standing right up and whipping his wand out of his pocket.

"Sirius, _stop_ —" Remus was pulling Sirius back, but he was fighting.

"I'm only saying the truth," said Laurel calmly, pulling her own wand out of her briefcase. "Don't try to challenge a Slytherin. Because we may not be Ravenclaws, but we're still smart."

"Oh yeah?" said Harry, who was also furious. His wand was pointing right at Laurel (he was in Hogsmeade, surrounded by plenty of witches and wizards, so the Trace wouldn't go into effect if he were to curse her).

"You think you can duel me, little boy?" said Laurel. "I didn't come here to duel. I came here to get a match."

"Why do you want a match anyway," Tonks demanded (she was on her feet too), "if you're going to pick on women like Barbara, who chose family over their careers? It's none of your business."

"Like I said, I figured someone who was serious about his career would also be serious about mine," Laurel told her impatiently.

"Well, Reg cares a lot about his career, it's true, but to him, family still comes first!" Sirius shouted, banging his fist on the table and making the papers fly everywhere. "And he wouldn't stand for such a bitch anyway. Disqualified!"

Before they could call in the next person, everyone had to console Barbara. Sirius pocketed his wand again, telling her he would _always_ fight for her honor, Remus admitting that Laurel had been extremely rude, Harry rattling off all the curses he wished he could have worked on Laurel. Finally, Tonks managed to cheer Barbara up by changing her appearance to look like Laurel exactly (except with a pig snout), then bumping into a wall and mumbling about how stupid she was.

"Tonks," said Barbara, laughing shakily. "Will you be my maid of honor?"

"W-What…?" Tonks looked shocked as she turned back into herself.

"I think you'd be really great at it," Barbara insisted. "If you have trouble with any of the organizing stuff, Sirius says you can ask your mum to help."

"Great idea!" said Tonks, giving Barbara a hug. "We don't need wet blankets like Laurel anyway. I'll throw you the best bachelorette party ever!"

Everyone was laughing when they heard the voice of the next candidate in the hallway. It sounded like a woman Candy's age, and she sounded like she was talking to a child again. Everyone groaned in exasperation, but then they heard the "child" speak.

"I _told_ you, Mum, I don't want to do it!" she insisted. The voice sounded to Harry like he had heard it somewhere, but he couldn't place it.

"Listen, darling, you're of age now, it's time you settled down," the mother insisted. "Chances like this don't come around often, you know. This is an opportunity to marry up considerably."

"But I don't even _know_ him!"

"It doesn't matter," the mother said cajolingly. "I only knew your father about a week before we got married, and we're still together, aren't we? Even in an arranged marriage, if the marriage is arranged well, love will come. You are a pureblood witch. It is time you took your place among your people."

"Oh my _God_ , Mum!" the daughter wailed. "Are you _kidding_ me? Nobody cares about that dumb pureblood stuff anymore! You wanted me to be Sorted into Slytherin all along, didn't you? _Didn't_ you?"

"Honey, this is no place to argue—"

"Don't call me honey!" the daughter snapped. "Just go home! I'll do it—but only to prove that love will NEVER come!"

The someone stomped furiously into view—one brunette, green-eyed, well-endowed someone.

" _Holly?"_ said Sirius and Harry in disbelief.

"Holly," she confirmed, sinking down into the seat. "I guess you heard that heated exchange between me and my mother, then."

"Well, yes," Sirius told her. "But listen, Holly, my brother's not that bad. I know your family is pressuring you—I know just how you feel—but give him a chance, at least."

"He's, like, thirteen years older than I am!" Holly protested.

"What's wrong with dating older men?" Tonks asked, raising her eyebrows.

"Yeah, weren't you tired of immature boys staring at—at your—well—" Harry made a vague gesture in the general direction of Holly's upper half.

"Breasts?" said Barbara. Sirius let out a snort of laughter, which he hastily transformed into a hacking cough. Holly scowled and crossed her arms, but she didn't say anything.

"I told her she just needed a better screening process," said Harry.

"And I told him if I raised my standards one bit, no boy in all the world would pass," Holly snapped. She seemed to be in a very sour mood—but, Harry thought, who could blame her?

"That's because you don't deserve a boy, Holly," said Sirius, resting his chin on his clasped fingers, sort of the way Dumbledore did when he was listening to something. "You deserve a man. And he'd have to be a pretty good man indeed, to pass those high standards of yours."

"Oh come on," she insisted. "I don't mind paying for dinner, okay—but do I have to do it every time? And do they all really think I'm a talking pair of boobs? What if I don't _want_ to kiss on the first date? What if I _don't_ want to get married to somebody I don't even know?!"

"If only you could know him, Holly," said Sirius. "But you see, he kind of doesn't know we're doing this."

Harry could have sworn he saw Holly's mouth twitch before she returned it to her set scowl.

"Well, then, at least that's one good thing about him," she said reluctantly. "He doesn't take out ads in papers to try and sell himself to witches everywhere. If he doesn't know you're doing this, how did you get him to not see the ads, anyway?"

"We wrote a few separate ads for separate publications, and with each ad, I'd place a jinx on it," Sirius explained. "When they were all written and mailed out, I placed a Protean Charm on each original so that they would all do the same thing—every time Regulus came near the ad, he would think of something else he needed to do. Sort of like a Muggle-repelling jinx. I call it the Bachelor-Repelling Jinx."

"Clever," said Holly, allowing herself a little laugh. "Still—usually it's my job to convince you that I'm right for the bachelor. But this time, you have to convince _me_."

"All right…" Sirius stroked his unshaven chin in thought. "How would you describe your dream man? Raise your standards all the way to the moon."

"Well, I'd…I'd like to date someone who isn't obnoxious," Holly began, as if this was too much to ask.

"Done," said Sirius. "Reg isn't obnoxious. He's quite the gentleman, in fact."

"Okay, then…" Holly sighed. "He's Reformed Pureblood, that's what his ad in _Witch Weekly_ said."

"You read _Witch Weekly?"_ said Tonks. "You know, you don't really seem the type."

"I'm _not_ the type," said Holly, rolling her eyes. "Every time I page through that magazine I feel my brain cells slowly dying. My mother is the one who saw the ad, and she decided it was a good time to arrange a marriage into another important pureblood family. Guess she doesn't want me to wind up as a spinster."

"All right…" Remus frowned. "But why did you ask if Regulus was Reformed Pureblood?"

"I was hoping it meant he was against the Dark Forces," Holly said eagerly. "It would be great to be with a guy like that."

"Holly, Regulus risked his _life_ to eradicate the Dark Forces, in fact," Harry told her truthfully. "He was prepared to die for his family and beliefs."

"Well, um…" Holly seemed to be casting around for other reasons not to date Regulus. "Isn't he a Slytherin? I don't know if I would date a Slytherin. And since when do Slytherins date Gryffindors? Since when does anybody inter-House date?"

"There's nothing wrong with inter-House dating," Remus told her casually. "Personally, I preferred non-Gryffindor girls."

"Just not Slytherin girls," Sirius added.

"See? There you go," said Holly. "There's no way a Slytherin will date a Gryffindor. The rivalry is too deep."

"You two have both graduated, Holly," Tonks pointed out. "It doesn't matter as much. Besides, Regulus is my cousin and he's really nice. I can totally endorse him."

"And," said Harry, "he's really good at Quidditch."

Holly's eyebrows raised slightly. Harry knew how much power Quidditch had.

"What position did he play?" she asked him reluctantly.

"Seeker," Harry replied. "Like me. And guess what? He said he'd come to my games at school, and he'd root for Gryffindor, just because I was playing. Now who's he more loyal to, his House or his friends?"

"Oh…wow," said Holly, looking down at the ground and rubbing her arm subconsciously. "I-I never thought I'd live to hear a Slytherin say that." She paused. "Well, technically I didn't hear him, _you_ lot did, but still—"

"You could hear him say it," said Sirius, smiling gently at her.

Holly seemed to be choosing her next words carefully. Finally, she gave them a smile—but whether it was sarcastic or real, nobody could really tell.

"How different," she said mysteriously, "is a Seeker from a Chaser?"

With that, she turned on her heel and strutted right out of the room. And that was the last they saw of Holly that day, for soon enough they heard their next contestant.

"Next," Sirius called, then muttered to Remus, "This was your idea, genius."

…

They went through quite a bit of women after that. Some of them seemed normal, although Sirius warned Harry that sometimes the normal ones turn out to be the dodgiest ones in the end. There was a crier, and several women with tragic pasts. They got into some more fights; emotions ran high, once even enough that Phoebe's magic inside Barbara somehow managed to turn one of the contestants' hair into a groundhog. In retaliation, the witch had magicked turned Sirius's hair pink.

"That's it! I've had enough for one day," Sirius informed them all grouchily, restoring his hair to black with a tap of his wand as the contestant swept out of the room. "You lot are just lucky I knew the counterjinx…"

"How _did_ you know the counterjinx?" Barbara asked curiously as they exited the room, Harry all too glad to leave; the interview process had rather worn him out too.

"Why, I invented it, of course," said Sirius, grinning.

"Really?" Harry gasped.

"Well, with a little help from your dad," Sirius said warmly. "You see, one of our favorite things to do was horse around with magic and try to create our own spells. Somehow, your dad accidentally turned my hair blue. And although I look good in anything…I did want to change my hair back to its normal color. So we just experimented until we got it right. It's fun."

"Do you know any others?" Harry asked eagerly, hoping to practice them with Hermione.

"There's _Avamph_ ," Sirius said thoughtfully. "It's similar to _Wingardium Leviosa_ , except when you levitate the item, it kind of does a little twirl in midair—watch—"

Sirius pointed his wand at the now-empty interviewee chair.

" _Avamph!"_ he shouted, leading the chair up with his wand, and when he pointed his wand at the ceiling, the chair spun around, then Sirius lowered it gently back to the floor.

"Wow," said Barbara wistfully. "I know I've made my sentiments clear about preferring to remain in the Muggle world. But there are still a lot of things I'm missing out on, aren't there?"

"Not nearly as much as I've been missing out on," said Sirius, putting his arm around her waist.

 **TO BE CONTINUED!**


	9. House Hunting

July 15, 1992 was a special day. It was the day Sirius and Barbara's realtor, Vlad, was going to show them some new houses in Hogsmeade. Sirius, Barbara and Harry were all going. They were also bringing Hermione, because Harry wanted to spend some time with her, and Regulus, mostly because he wanted to see if setting up a restaurant in Hogsmeade was feasible.

"Before, Reggie's Pizza Empire only catered to the No-Maj population, really," Regulus explained as they all climbed into Barbara's Ford Fiesta. The journey from London to the Scottish Highlands would take them about nine hours, but they had left at eight in the morning, so they would get there by five in the evening. "So trying to get the wizard population to eat there would either be a huge success, or a total fail. Either way, it's a risk."

"Marketing to British Muggles was a risk," Sirius pointed out. "Starting a business to _begin_ with was a risk, in fact."

"Yeah, but still…" Regulus tapped his fingers on the steering wheel and didn't finish his sentence. This time, he was in the driver's seat; Phoebe was beginning to interfere with Barbara's ability to reach the steering wheel, and Regulus had obtained a driver's license in Chicago. Sirius was riding shotgun, and Barbara was in the back with Harry and Hermione, Harry between the two of them. Barbara and Sirius were going to switch off between shotgun and backseat, but Harry wanted to stay in the back next to Hermione.

"I think you can do it," Hermione said encouragingly. "Look at it logically—it will probably work for the same reason it worked with British Muggles. It's something new and different."

"Maybe with American witches and wizards," said Regulus darkly. "They're a lot more Reformed over there. But here…everything associated with No-Maj culture is looked down upon by so many in our society. We still live under the influence of Grindelwald's ideals—although Grindelwald was inspired by Salazar Slytherin, I imagine…"

"If the food is good, it won't matter," Harry assured him. "And we're becoming less anti-Muggle with each generation. Sirius told me a good example is how nobody in my generation wears robes except to school. And even in school, sometimes kids don't bother with robes, especially on hot days."

"And they're letting the girls wear pants now if they want," Hermione added. "I still prefer the skirt, though."

"That's fine if you're a student, as you have the button-down shirt and a skirt or pants," said Sirius. "But the thing is, most of us—in our generation—well, let's say taking your robes off in public really isn't an option."

Barbara's face turned pink, and she snorted with laughter.

"You mean you're _completely_ —"

"Yes," said Sirius, "and it's a good thing, too. We wizards like it nice and roomy down there."

"Mm." Barbara grinned and licked her lips. "Sexy wizards do."

"That makes me wonder a lot about some of our teachers," said Hermione, who had also blushed a little at Sirius's comment.

"Well, there's no point in wearing clothes underneath," Regulus pointed out. "You'd just get overheated, especially since the magical world doesn't have air conditioning. Why do you think so many witches and wizards have no idea how to dress normally?"

Barbara's lips twitched slightly. "But what if you get a—"

"Think of Cornelius Fudge in a thong-style bathing suit," Sirius suggested. "Lime green, to match the bowler."

Everyone laughed. The next nine hours started out fun like that, with lots of conversation and car games. Around noon they stopped at a fast food restaurant for lunch. Soon things became slightly boring, and by the time they'd been driving for six hours, the trip felt downright tedious. They were driving through the countryside. Harry looked at the clock in the car. It was 2:00 P.M.

"We must be nearly there yet," Sirius groaned.

"Sorry, honey," said Barbara, who was riding shotgun, turning around to look at Sirius. "We've still got about three hours."

"My posterior is so sore," Hermione complained, "I may never walk again."

"To think, this is a round-trip," Harry added with horror.

This time, _everyone_ moaned in agony. They stopped at another fast food restaurant, so they could pass the time by digesting more incredibly unhealthy food. Regulus insisted on pulling over, like he did last time they ate.

"I don't see why we can't just eat while we drive," said Barbara. "We're wasting time."

"It's not safe to eat while driving," Regulus told her.

"But I do it all the time."

"That doesn't make it okay," said Regulus patiently. Barbara rolled her eyes and bit into her double quarter-pounder with bacon. She also got a large chocolate milkshake and medium fries. Everyone had hamburgers, except Regulus, who wanted to keep it healthy by eating a salad.

"Who eats salad at fast food places?" said Sirius.

"People who want to reach middle age," said Regulus snarkily.

It would still be light out when they arrived, since it was summer. But Harry was trying to fall asleep, if it meant the trip could go by quicker. Barbara was sleeping, since pregnancy wore her out, but Harry couldn't seem to drift off.

"I'll buy a Sleeping Draught in Hogsmeade," said Regulus, as if reading Harry's thoughts. "That way, the ride home will be much quicker."

Finally, around 3:30, everyone was asleep except for Regulus, who had to drive. Harry awoke to Sirius jiggling his shoulder.

"We're here, Harry," he said.

Harry got out of the car, blinking sleepily, and looked around. He had been to Hogsmeade once before, with Sirius. First years weren't supposed to go to Hogsmeade, but Sirius knew several secret passageways out of the school.

"Right now, I'll pick up that Sleeping Draught," said Regulus, waving goodbye and heading towards a nearby apothecary.

"When are we meeting the realtor—you know, Vlad?" Harry asked.

"He's going to be waiting for us near the first house," Sirius replied. "But first, I wanted to give Barbara her surprise gift."

"You got me a gift?" said Barbara, shocked.

"Yes, and one for Hermione, too," said Sirius, pulling two plastic cards out of his pocket and handing one to each of the females.

"An all-expense paid trip to the spa?!" Barbara shrieked. "Wow, Siri, this is a great gift! Come on, Hermione, let's go—have you ever had a spa day before?"

"No," said Hermione, looking down at her card in interest.

"Wow, have you been missing out!" said Barbara gleefully. "We can get mani-pedis, facials, and even full-body massages! They put hot stones on your back and stuff like that. We can even get our hair done! And I need some waxing, too."

Without another word, she grabbed Hermione's hand and off they ran towards Madam Margaret's Salon and Spa, which was the best (and only) spa in Hogsmeade.

"Now," Sirius said in an undertone to Harry, "we can go get the ring."

"The _ring?"_ Harry was shocked. "You mean the engagement ring? I didn't know we were getting that."

"Well, we are." Sirius took Harry's hand and led him towards Garlock and Company, which was a jewelry store. Harry was surprised to see that the store was run by goblins, like Gringotts.

"More goblins?" Harry whispered.

"Goblins are the best when it comes to craftmanship," Sirius explained.

They went up to the counter. Harry looked down at the goblin-made jewelry in amazement. It was better than even the most beautiful Muggle jewelry.

"Can I help you?" asked the goblin cashier.

"Yes," said Sirius. "I've reserved a ring under 'Sirius'."

"You already ordered it?" said Harry.

"What did you think?" Sirius scoffed. "I wouldn't buy Barbara's ring off-the-rack."

The goblin retrieved Barbara's ring and opened the little case. Harry couldn't help but gasp. It was truly beautiful. The band was made of the finest goblin-wrought silver and it was encrusted with tiny clear diamonds. For the rock, there was also a diamond, but it was carved into the shape of two pink intertwined hearts.

"That will be 450 Galleons, please," said the goblin.

Harry had seen Vault 711, Sirius's Gringotts vault. There were so many piles of gold in there, it made 450 Galleons look like nothing. And sure enough, Sirius pulled a big sack of gold out of his enchanted pockets as calmly as you please.

"Thank you," he said smoothly. "It looks even better than I imagined."

Sirius and Harry had some more time to kill while Barbara and Hermione had their spa day. They met up with Regulus, who had been looking for empty premises to buy for his restaurant, and bought some Honeydukes candy. They went to Zonko's, then past the Shrieking Shack (which Sirius didn't really have any interest in) and some of the other little shops. Finally, around seven, Hermione and Barbara caught up with them.

Both of the females looked refreshed. They'd gotten their hair permed and their nails and toenails painted. In fact, they were like whole new people.

"That was so fun," said Hermione. "We've got to do that again."

"I know," Barbara agreed happily. "So…what did you lot do?"

"Just some shopping," Sirius replied, but he winked at Harry, who grinned. Sirius's hands were in the pockets of his robes, and Harry was sure his hand was clenched around the ring box right now.

Since it was getting late, they went to meet Vlad at the next house. Harry thought house-hunting was quite boring. The adults yapped on about "open concept" and how they would need to rip up the carpet and how important it was to have a big backyard and how many rooms should there be and how important was an island and bla-bla-bla-bla-bla. Harry wanted his own bathroom; Barbara wanted a big kitchen; Sirius wanted the bedrooms to be nice and homey; everyone wanted a perfect baby room. There needed to be three bedrooms—one for Barbara and Sirius, one for Harry, and one for Phoebe.

"This one is nice," said Barbara, as they walked around the baby room of one house. "I love the nursery. But the kitchen is just so tiny. My dream kitchen is really big."

"There's a wall between the living room and the kitchen," said Vlad. "We could knock out the wall and rebuild the kitchen. Then you'll have open concept _and_ a big kitchen."

"The lease on my flat is over in less than a month," Sirius told him. "There's no way the reno will be done before then."

"Right," said Barbara. "How will I cook?"

"Hmm…well, you could cook on the old stove until they take it away, then order out or eat leftovers for a couple days until they install the new one," Vlad suggested. "I'm sure you'll manage."

"I think it's worth it," said Harry, mostly because this was the fourth house they had looked at so far and he was getting bored.

"Well…it _is_ pretty great otherwise," Barbara admitted. "I'll think about it."

After looking at one more house (it wasn't very good) they said good-bye to Vlad and decided to get a drink at the Three Broomsticks before they left for home.

"Madam Rosmerta!" Sirius called happily.

"Oh! Sirius! Hi!" said a familiar voice, and Harry was surprised to see Holly standing there, wearing an apron, her brown hair tied back with a bandanna. She was grinning at the sight of them all.

"Holly?" said Sirius in disbelief. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm working here," Holly said simply. "I wanted to live in Hogsmeade, and Madam Rosmerta rented me out a room in exchange for helping in the shop."

"We're moving to Hogsmeade, too," said Harry excitedly. "We were just looking at houses."

"Then I might be seeing you more often," Holly said pleasantly. "So…what'll it be?"

"I'll have one butterbeer, please," said Harry.

"And one firewhiskey," Sirius added.

"Sirius!" said Regulus. "I thought you weren't drinking."

"I can drink a _little_ ," said Sirius. "You know, in celebration of our new home."

Regulus shrugged, looking a little disgruntled. Barbara deliberated over the menu.

"Hmm," she said. "Does this butterbeer have real beer in it?"

"Yes," Holly replied, "but only a tiny bit."

"Still, I'm not supposed to have any alcohol," Barbara told her. "I'm having a baby, you see."

"Oh, wow! Really?" Holly asked, although it was obvious her surprise was quite fake.

"There's no need to pretend to be surprised," Barbara said, smiling. "I'm far past the point of is-she-or-isn't-she."

"So what kind of baby will it be?" asked Holly excitedly.

"We're having a little girl," said Sirius. "She's going to be named Phoebe."

"Oh, like the planet," said Holly knowledgeably. "Interesting. But anyway, I can make you a virgin butterbeer if you want. And you—"

Holly pointed at Regulus.

"One grape soda, neat, please," said Regulus politely.

"Coming right up." Holly started to make the drinks, and as she did, she gestured to Regulus. "So, who's the American?"

"Regulus Black, at your service." Regulus stuck out his hand to shake. Holly looked shocked as they shook hands. Harry figured she remembered the dating interview.

"Holly Greengrass," said Holly. "Nice…nice to meet you."

"She's the cousin of Daphne, a girl in my year," Harry explained. "Daphne is in Slytherin, but Holly was a Gryffindor. She graduated last year."

"Yes, I've heard of the Greengrass family," said Regulus. "You're one of the Sacred 28, like me."

"Reformed Pureblood, though," Holly told Regulus, eyeing him shrewdly.

"As am I," Regulus said with unwavering certainty, and Holly's look of suspicion morphed into a smile.

"So you're Sirius's brother?" Holly asked. "The Quidditch player?"

"How did you know?"

"I-I just heard," Holly told him, at a meaningful look from all the others. "I play Quidditch, too."

"Oh, really," said Regulus. "What position?"

"Chaser."

"I was a Seeker," Regulus replied.

"Hmm," said Sirius, looking at the two of them. "Holly, would you like Regulus to buy you a drink?"

"Um, okay." Holly shrugged, her olive-green eyes not leaving Regulus. She seemed pleased that his eyes didn't wander downwards.

Regulus took some gold out of his pocket and paid for Holly's drink. Holly hollered to Madam Rosmerta that she was going on break, and she and Regulus went to eat with the others. However, Sirius steered them towards their own table.

"Sirius, w-what are you doing?!" Regulus hissed in alarm.

"You'll love Holly," Sirius whispered back, and he left the two of them alone.

"Are you sure that will work?" Barbara asked, looking bemusedly in their direction.

"Sure, they can just talk about Quidditch," said Sirius. "But don't stare, that'll freak him out."

So Sirius, Barbara, Harry and Hermione tried not to spy on Regulus and Holly. But whenever there was a lull in the conversation, they glanced over at the nearby table where the two were having what was basically a blind date. They both seemed to be enjoying themselves; they were leaning in a little closer than before, and Holly was talking animatedly. Regulus was nodding, a huge smile on his face.

"Looks like they're getting on well," Hermione said, sounding pleased. She had ordered butterbeer too, like Harry.

"Yes…I'm very good at reading body language," said Sirius. "You see the way they're leaning in like that? It's a good sign. Especially when they mirror each other's movements—and Reg used to have trouble with eye contact, but it seems natural with Holly."

"So, to Regulus and Holly, then," said Barbara, raising her glass. Three more glasses chinked at the bottom.

"To Regulus and Holly," everyone repeated.


	10. Pureblood Party

"What do you think I should engrave on the marriage ring?" Sirius asked casually. Barbara was in the bathroom, so he was free to pull the engagement ring out of his pocket and look at it fondly, as he had taken to doing lately.

"Hmm…how about, 'What is this ring doing off your finger, anyway?' I like that," said Harry.

Sirius laughed heartily.

"You know, they say you're like James in a lot of ways," he said, "but you've got Lily's sense of humor. James's marriage ring was engraved with 'Put this ring back on right now, Potter.'"

"What did hers say?" Harry asked with a smile.

"If I recall correctly, Lily's was engraved with, 'I guess I can't call you Evans anymore.'"

Harry was glad to be told he had his mother's humor, and not just because James's idea of comedy seemed to consist of pranks and hexing random people as they walked past in the hallway. It was mostly because people would usually say that the only thing he got from his mother was his eye color. Having her sense of humor was even better.

They were interrupted by an owl flying through the open window. Unfortunately, Barbara stepped out of the bathroom at the exact time the owl swooped in, and it got stuck in her hair again. Sirius hurriedly stuffed the ring into his pocket and ran over to get the owl out. The letter fluttered to the floor.

"Why do they _do_ that?" she said breathlessly, as the owl, hooting loudly, landed onto the couch.

"Must be your pregnant-lady pheromones," said Sirius wisely.

"My _what?"_

"Pheromones," Sirius repeated. "It's how females and males communicate chemically. And when you're pregnant you make a lot more of them."

"Is that why men are so attracted to pregnant women?" said Barbara. "I never understood what was so hot about being crankier, sweatier, fatter and a lot more tired."

"It's a sign that you're fertile, remember, and anyway…the pheromones are in the sweat," Sirius told her.

"Oh," said Barbara. "I always thought that was just some kind of weird guy fetish, but I do seem to be getting hit on a bit more than normal these days."

"It's pretty much universal, for guys," said Sirius. "And anyway, my sense of smell is more like a dog's than a human's, so I can tell you…not that you didn't smell good before, but you smell twice as good pregnant."

"Ooh," said Barbara, grabbing Sirius's hand and putting the other on his waist. "That's a little strange…but a lot sexy. Just how I like it."

"That's how I like it, too," said Sirius, placing one hand on her upper back. Their faces were very close.

"I can tell," said Barbara, her voice deeper, like Sirius's. "Who's the one with the bump now?"

"GUYS!" shouted Harry. "Will you get a room? Barbara doesn't smell any different to _me_."

True, ever since Barbara had become visibly pregnant, Harry had found himself wanting to be nicer to her, but he knew it was just because that was his baby sister in there. Barbara and Sirius separated (with what looked like an enormous amount of effort) and Sirius sat down on the couch, legs crossed.

"It's because you have a human sense of smell," he explained. "Not always a bad thing. Dogs use their noses like people use their eyes."

"Can you just read the letter?" said Harry irritably. He didn't like it when Sirius and Barbara showed affection around him.

Barbara picked up the letter off the floor.

"Looks like it's another one from your brother, Sirius," she said in interest, tossing it to him. Sirius read out loud:

 _Dear Brother,_

 _How are you? I was wondering if you would like to attend a party at Black Manor in a few days. I'm inviting many influential pureblood families—yes, that includes the Malfoys. I hope you can find it within yourself to be mature and put aside your enmity for me, just this once. You are also free to bring Remus Lupin and Harry and his friends and anyone else (don't bother inviting Ron as I have already invited the entire Weasley family and they have sent me an enthusiastic RSVP). Don't tell anyone but this party is also a bit of an excuse to see Holly. I plan to ask her father for permission to court her. Also, I told everyone to wear their House colors as a sort of theme, so I hope to see some red and gold among all that green and silver! It will be a formal occasion, so no sweatpants._

 _Hope to see you soon,_

 _Regulus Arcturus Black_

 _Black Family Head of House_

"Ugh," said Sirius. "The _Malfoys?"_

"I'm not sure I want to go, then," Harry added. He saw enough of Malfoy during the school year; they didn't need to be locking horns all throughout summer vacation, too.

"Didn't you see what else he wrote?" Barbara reminded them. "That you should forget your hatred of them for the sake of his party? He probably said the same thing in his letter to them. I think a House Colors theme party sounds like loads of fun—and anyway, isn't it sweet how he's asking her father for permission, and throwing a whole party just so he can see her?"

"It's proper pureblood conduct to ask a woman's father before you date or marry her," Sirius said stiffly.

"You didn't ask my dad for permission," said Barbara, raising one eyebrow.

"That's because _I'm_ a rule-breaker," Sirius replied haughtily.

Barbara smirked and sat down on the couch next to Sirius. The owl flew off the seat.

"Are we going to go?" Barbara asked. "Because I really want to! Come on, Siri…for _me?"_

"Oh…you know I can't resist your puppy eyes," said Sirius, resigning to go to Regulus's party. He flipped the paper over, grabbed a ballpoint pen off the coffee table, and scribbled a quick response:

 _Regulus –_

 _We'll come to the party. Don't expect us to be best friends with the Malfoys or anything, but we can be civil, for you._

 _Sirius_

"It's a formal occasion, besides," said Barbara. "You know I love an excuse to get dressed up."

"I bet Hermione will look pretty, too," said Harry, remembering how great she had looked at the grand opening of Regulus's second London restaurant.

"Well, I'm going to go out and buy a dress and shoes today!" said Barbara, who also loved a good excuse to shop. "Sirius…you have red-and-gold robes, don't you? I remember you wore them at the end-of-term feast last June."

"Yes," said Sirius. "Harry, what will you wear?"

"D'you think…d'you think I could wear my Quidditch robes?" Harry asked uncertainly.

"I think that would be awesome," said Sirius. "Good idea, Harry."

…

The day of the party, Harry was a little bit nervous. He had never been to a "formal occasion" before. Uncle Vernon had work parties, but those were times when he was either stuck in his cupboard or at Mrs. Figg's. Hermione and Barbara had gotten their nails done the day before (red and gold for Hermione, yellow and black for Barbara) and they each bought dresses. Barbara had given up on wearing heels, so she got some black flats. Hermione was afraid she'd fall over if she tried high heels, so Barbara had been teaching her to walk in them—it was her personal belief that every girl should know how to walk in heels.

Barbara said she liked doing Hermione's hair, because it was a "challenge" (Hermione didn't seem offended by this). Sure enough, after they were done getting ready, Hermione's hair was long and straight this time. Barbara had put something in it to make it shine, and it curled up slightly at the ends. Barbara's hair was naturally wavy, but she had used a curling iron, which gave her nice, big, bouncy curls.

Sirius and Harry felt a little less dressed up compared to the way Barbara and Hermione were dressed. Barbara had gotten a maternity dress, of course, but the bright sunshiny yellow looked so good with her dark-brown hair, along with shades of gold that brought out her hazel eyes. It was strapless (she didn't have much of a problem holding it up) and she was wearing black tights. She was wearing her Hufflepuff House jewelry, even her House bracelet. Hermione had a House bracelet, too, for Gryffindor. Her dress had a lacy "shirt-top"; the background was red and the lace was gold. Her flowy skirt, in shades of red and gold, ended at her knees, like Barbara's. She was wearing gold high heels, and since she was typically pretty quick on the uptake, it seemed she had succeeded in her "walking-in-high-heels" lessons from Barbara.

"I'll never understand how you two can stand being guys," said Barbara, tossing her dark curls and watching Hermione spin around in her dress like Barbara had taught her.

"What do you mean?" Sirius asked.

"Well, being a woman is so much more _fun_ ," Barbara explained. "I would hate to get up and have to wear the same outfit day after day. When you're a woman you get to have fun doing your hair and wearing different shoes every day and as many pretty dresses as you want, and you get to paint your nails in every color of the rainbow. To work most guys wear a black suit every day, they wear it to their wedding, and then they're buried in it! That must be so _boring_."

"No…we don't really feel like we're missing out," said Harry. To him, all that dressing up sounded like a lot of work. This morning, he had simply washed his hair and thrown on his Quidditch robes. Sirius took more time doing his hair, but not nearly as long as Barbara, and it was easy to just slip robes over your head.

Just like how she had finally given up on wearing high heels, Barbara had also given up on driving. She was just "too pregnant", as she put it. So Regulus sent for his chauffer to pick Sirius, Harry, Barbara and Hermione up at the flat; Ron and Remus would both be meeting them at the party.

Riding in the limo, holding hands with Hermione, Harry wondered if wearing his Quidditch robes was a "fashion _faux pas_ ", as Barbara put it. He thought it would be a nice "statement"—after all, what brought House Pride out in people more than Quidditch? But what if people thought it was stupid, or not formal enough? And what if he ran into Malfoy?

"Harry, are you okay?" Hermione asked. "Your hand's all cold and clammy."

"I'm just worried Malfoy will try to start some kind of fight," said Harry. "What if he makes some dumb comment about you being Muggle-born? We promised we wouldn't fight him."

"Generally," said Sirius, "the host isn't supposed to kick guests out of the house, according to proper pureblood etiquette. However, since it's still his house, he's allowed to make an exception and give that person the boot if they're being enough of a jerk."

"Oh," said Barbara. "Like how the manager is allowed to kick customers out of the store if they're being too disruptive?"

"Exactly," Sirius agreed. "And he's going to want to look good in front of Holly—not much would impress her more than getting rid of someone for being a pureblood supremacist."

"Boys will do _anything_ to impress a girl," said Barbara, and she and Hermione laughed.

Harry remembered how it felt first falling in love with Hermione, and he wondered if Regulus felt that way now. It had been a whole bunch of things for Harry—nothing he'd ever felt before, but definitely not a bad feeling. But then, Regulus was in his thirties; surely this wasn't his first time falling in love?

"Did Regulus have a girlfriend in school?" Harry asked Sirius.

"Well, I never saw him with a girl, but I guess he might have," Sirius replied. "Especially during our later years there, we didn't…connect that much. So I didn't have much of an idea what he was up to. Why do you ask?"

"I was just wondering if Holly is his first love," Harry explained.

"Don't go talking about love if you've only known the person for a few days," Barbara warned. "It did work out for Siri and me. But it doesn't for everyone."

She raised her perfectly shaped eyebrows, and although she didn't mention it, Harry knew she was thinking of her terrible ex-boyfriend, Jackson.

"And don't forget your parents, Harry," Sirius added. "It took them six _years_ to get together."

…

It wasn't a long ride to #12 Grimmauld Place, because it was in London, just like Sirius's flat. They entered the same way they had last time, with Barbara pretending she was a witch with help from Phoebe, and they stepped into the hallway. Everyone knew to be silent in the foyer this time.

Harry and Hermione were looking for Ron, who (according to Regulus) had come with his whole family (well, maybe except Bill and Charlie, who were out of the country; Harry doubted they would come all the way back to Britain just for a social gathering). Barbara and Sirius headed into the crowd to mingle.

The first person they ran into was the Tonks family. Ted and his daughter were the only two Hufflepuffs in the house, besides Barbara. Ted was wearing a banana-yellow suit with a black-and-yellow striped tie; Tonks was wearing a yellow cocktail dress with lots of gold jewelry. She was wearing black wedge shoes, gold eyeshadow and black lipstick. Her hair was no longer pink; it was jet-black with a few blonde streaks.

"Ooh, did you dye your hair?" Hermione asked. "I like it."

"It's not dyed," Tonks told her, smiling. "I'm a Metamorphmagus, which means I can change my appearance at will. Watch—"

Tonks scrunched up her eyes and grunted, and her hair turned from black with a few blonde streaks to blonde with a few black streaks.

"Cool," said Harry. "Hey, have you seen the Weasley family?"

"They haven't arrived yet," said Andromeda, who was wearing a dress much like her daughter's, although it was emerald-green, a little less low-cut, and the skirt was a bit longer. Her jewelry was silver, and she had red lipstick and green eye shadow. Her shoes were green stilettos. "But do you want to go see everyone else?"

Harry sort of started to see what Barbara meant about women dressing up as Andromeda led them to the drawing room, where most of the guests had gathered. The men were mostly just wearing either suits (like Ted Tonks) or wizard's robes (like Sirius)…But the women really went all-out with their House Pride outfits, combining makeup, jewelry, nail polish and dresses and skirts to create a perfect look.

"Why, hello, Harry, Hermione," said Remus, stepping out of the crowd. His robes, red and gold, looked a lot like Sirius's, except that they seemed to be made of a cheaper fabric, maybe cotton. "You look nice."

"Thanks," said Harry. "So do you."

"Yes, I try." Remus ran a hand through his graying brown hair. "I'm just hoping Sirius doesn't run into any trouble with the Malfoys. He does have a temper, you know."

"I think Regulus felt bad not inviting them to any family functions, though," said Hermione. "I'm guessing he got along pretty well with Narcissa."

Just then, they heard a loud, clanging doorbell. Sirius's mother started screeching again in the hallway. Remus went to go take care of it.

"Come on, Ron's probably here," said Harry, pulling Hermione's hand. Sure enough, once they'd managed to close Walburga Black's curtains, there was the Weasley family, all crowded into the doorway. Everyone was there, it seemed, except Bill and Charlie, just as Harry had predicted.

"Wow, Harry, you look great!" said Ron (who, like the other Weasley boys, was wearing a red shirt and slacks; Ginny was wearing a red sundress with gold Mary Jane shoes, even if she wasn't going to be Sorted until September).

"We brought our brooms, but we didn't think to wear our uniforms," said Fred.

"Good idea," George added.

Mrs. Weasley walked in, smiling and holding what smelled like tuna hot dish. Her dress was red, with long sleeves and golden flowers. She went downstairs with Ginny into the kitchen, where most of the wives and daughters seemed to be. The drawing room was filled with mostly wizards. Harry, Ron, and Hermione headed there, along with the rest of the Weasleys.

"Ah, here's Harry!" Regulus appeared, holding a tray of drinks. Kreacher was behind him, carrying plates. "Look, we both wore our Quidditch robes!"

Indeed—for the party, Regulus too had decided to don his old Quidditch uniform. It looked a lot like Harry's, except the robes were green instead of red, and a few cosmetic changes had been made to the uniform since Regulus graduated. Regulus's robes (which were a little thicker than Harry's) reached the floor instead of his ankles; the pants he wore were black instead of tan; and he had no protective gear, symbolic of the rather _lasses-faire_ 1970's.

"I like your Quidditch robes," said Harry. "Vintage."

"Thanks." Regulus smiled. "I rented some spare brooms from Diagon Alley, so maybe we can have a couple games. You did bring your broom, didn't you?"

"Sirius has it," said Harry, pointing, and wondering why he hadn't asked yet for Sirius to put the Shrinking Charm on his pockets, too.

"It's impressive you can still fit into those after so many years of pizza," Sirius said snarkily, walking up to Regulus and putting an arm around him. "I wonder if I'll be the only one you impress today."

"Now, Sirius," Regulus said testily, cheeks turning a little pink, "you better not wreck it for Holly and me. I mean it."

"What makes you think I would wreck it?" said Sirius, mock-innocently. "I wouldn't."

"But you would tease me until you took your last breath," Regulus told him.

"As older brother," Sirius replied, squeezing Regulus's shoulder, "that's my job."

"Sirius, honestly—"

"What shall I call you, then?" said Sirius, as Hermione and Harry looked at each other with grins on their faces. "Regolly? Hegulus? BlackGrass?"

"Please stop," said Regulus, crossing his arms, face red.

"Hmm, I don't know what I should say when she comes in the room, though," Sirius continued thoughtfully. "Oh, I know—is this the one you won't shut up about? Or what about this? Holly's a Chaser—she sure scored a _goal_ with you—"

"Oh my God, have you matured at _all?"_ yelled Regulus, stomping out of the room. Sirius, Harry and Hermione all started laughing—even more so when Holly entered the drawing room at the same time, so she and Regulus bumped into each other, making him turn all shades of red and nearly spill his drink tray. They saw Holly take a drink off the tray and take a sip out of it.

"Oy! Holly!" shouted Sirius, waving his arm, his loud voice carrying across the room. Regulus scowled, but Holly smiled and walked over; Regulus followed her reluctantly.

Harry was of course in love with Hermione, but he would be lying if he said he didn't find Holly attractive, and Ron had always been straight-up infatuated with her. After all, pretty much every boy at Hogwarts agreed that Holly had been the hottest witch in seventh year. When Ron saw her House Pride outfit, he had to sit down before his knees gave way.

Holly's hair was tied up on top of her head in an elaborate updo; using mousse, she had temporarily added red and gold streaks as well. Her scarlet dress, which shimmered with gold, was floor-length and form-fitting, emphasizing the womanly curves that were already plain to see. It was low-cut, not so much that she didn't leave anything to the imagination, but certainly enough that the imagination of any boy who saw her would suddenly run wild. She was wearing red lipstick with gold eyeshadow and mascara. Just like pretty much every witch at the party, she was wearing a House bracelet. When she wasn't looking, Sirius raised his eyebrows and made a kissy face at Regulus, who shot him a look of death.

"Hey, you guys," Holly said brightly. "Nice party."

"You know it," Sirius replied. Ron moaned weakly.

"Holly, I have an idea," Harry said suddenly.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Why don't we play a Quidditch match?" he suggested excitedly. "Regulus has a Snitch, so he and I could play against each other—and maybe somebody else could be a Keeper, so Holly could try to score goals—something like that?"

"Nice try, Potter," said an all-too-familiar voice from behind Harry. "But if we're playing Quidditch, _I'm_ going to be the Slytherin Seeker."

Harry, Ron and Hermione stared. Malfoy was there, and he was holding a broom.


	11. Competition

"You?" said Ron. "Since when?"

"Since my father bought me this new Nimbus Two Thousand and One, that's when," Malfoy said triumphantly, showing the broom so Harry and his friends could see it. "It's much better than the old model."

"For…for real?" said Harry, unable to help himself.

"For real," said a voice even colder than Malfoy's, an adult voice—and Harry found himself looking at the man who could only be Malfoy's father. His hair was just like his son's, light blonde and smooth, only it was long, even longer than Sirius's (a lot neater, too). He had the same cold eyes and the exact same sneer. No wonder Sirius had been able to tell who Draco was just by looking at him.

Lucius Malfoy's sneer grew when he noticed Sirius standing by Harry.

"Well, well, Sirius Black." Lucius also had Draco's drawling voice. "I see you're back from prison. Haven't bothered to get a haircut yet?"

"You're one to talk!"

"Mine's long, and beautiful," said Lucius arrogantly. "Yours is a rat's nest. And I don't know how your wife kisses you without being scratched by that scruffy stubble. It makes you look like a homeless person."

"I don't think it makes him look like homeless person," Barbara told Lucius haughtily. "I think it's a sign of virility."

Lucius shot Barbara a very disdainful look, but didn't say anything. Maybe he didn't think she was worth speaking to.

"I see you're still carrying around that stupid cane, even though you don't need it to walk." Sirius pointed at Lucius's snake cane, which was kind of like the one Cassiopeia had, except it was smaller and it didn't seem any more alive to Harry than it did to anyone else. "Overcompensating for something, are you?"

"Don't act so confident, Black," Lucius snapped. "The name of Malfoy commands respect."

"Yeah, right," said Sirius. "Everyone knows the only reason you and your little brat got invited to this party is because you're Narcissa's husband."

There was a collective gasp. At that moment Regulus stepped in between them.

"Please, you two, don't fight," he pleaded. "Let's just go and play Quidditch, all right?"

"Regulus Black, is that you?" said Lucius. "That's quite an…interesting accent you've got there. How was it, then, living with the M—"

"It was okay," Regulus mumbled, cutting Lucius off, because he, along with pretty much everyone else, knew what bad word Mr. Malfoy had been planning on saying.

"Don't go picking on Reg," snarled Sirius, going so far as to jab Lucius in the chest. Harry thought he sounded just like his dog form. Regulus was biting his lip.

"Reg? How adorable," Lucius drawled. "Such a promising young Death Eater, and now…as if the House of Black didn't have enough to feel ashamed of—"

WHAM! Suddenly a huge snake cane swung out of nowhere, clobbering Lucius Malfoy right on the lower back, then again on the rear end, and finally knocking him onto the floor. Lucius shouted an obscenity, to everyone's surprise, he got smacked again for that, and then finally he scrambled to his feet. Everyone else turned to see who had hit him.

"Don't you EVER insult the House of Black again!" It was Cassiopeia. She was breathing hard, clutching her snake cane like a sword. Her face was beet red and her cat-eye glasses were lopsided. Lucius couldn't quite believe he had been taken out by an eighty-year-old woman. He opened his mouth and was about to say something else, probably nothing nice, but Regulus spoke first.

"This is my house, Lucius Malfoy," Regulus said, his voice unusually cold, his cheeks pink. "If you can't control yourself, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

They stared at each other for a few incredibly long seconds. It reminded Harry of those Western movies, where the hero and villain have a showdown at high noon. Lucius Malfoy's hand balled around his wand in his robes. His icy gray eyes narrowed. Harry knew it was taking all of Regulus's courage to stand up to Lucius. His cheeks turned a bit pinker, but his gaze didn't waver, and he didn't back down. Finally—

"Fine." Lucius Malfoy scowled, his eyes still watering from the pain. Grinning broadly, Sirius elbowed Regulus.

"That felt good," Regulus gasped, breaking into nervous laughter.

"I'm so proud of you," Sirius told him. "Hey, Cassiopeia! Sure you weren't a Beater back in your school days?"

This time almost everyone laughed.

"No, but I was a Keeper," she said. "I'll join you in your little Quidditch match, if you want. I'll Keep for Slytherin."

"All right, let's take this out to the lawn, then," said Sirius, wiping tears of laughter out of his eyes. "Reg, are the spare brooms out back?"

"Yeah," said Regulus, going down into the kitchen to get everyone else.

Once they were all out on the lawn, they started picking teams. They already had Harry and Malfoy to be the Seekers, and Cassiopeia to Keep for Slytherin. Harry was wondering who else was playing when Ron elbowed him.

"What?" Harry whispered.

"Check out who Malfoy's staring at," Ron said, barely able to contain his mirth.

Harry looked. Malfoy's usually pale cheeks were pink, almost in a blush, and he was staring at Holly's cousin, Astoria. She had brown hair, like Holly; in fact, Holly probably looked just like Astoria when she was a first-year. Astoria didn't look mean like her sister Daphne, who was standing a ways off. She was smiling and watching everyone pick teams; Malfoy was unsuccessful in catching her eye.

"Oh my God," said Harry with a snort of laughter. "So I was right! I don't know if she likes him back, though."

"You know what you should do?" said Ron. "Start flirting with her. It'll make him crazy."

"I already have a girlfriend, Ron," Harry reminded him. "Besides, I hate Malfoy's guts, but you have to draw the line somewhere, you know? Liking a girl is really tough."

"Are you kidding me?" said Ron. "He'd do it to you in a heartbeat. The only reason he didn't flirt with Hermione, I bet, is because he didn't want anyone to think he likes a Muggle-born."

"Well…" Harry frowned; Ron had a point. "How about I only flirt with her if Gryffindor loses? You know, to knock his ego down a bit?"

"Sounds like a plan," Ron agreed, nodding. "Now I don't have to feel so worried about Gryffindor losing, because now I'll win either way."

After this was settled, they returned their attention to picking teams.

"I'll be the Keeper for Gryffindor," Sirius offered. "Holly, do you want to be one of the Chasers?"

"Sure," she said. "But we still need two more."

"We'll do it!" said Fred Weasley. "We brought our brooms!"

"But how will I tell you apart?" Holly asked.

"Hmm…" Sirius frowned. "How about one of the Weasley twins Keeps, and I Chase?"

"Good idea," said George. "I, George, will be the Keeper, and Fred can keep being a Chaser."

"Sounds like a plan," said Fred.

"All right…" Sirius counted on his fingers. "For Gryffindor we've got Fred, George, Holly, Harry, and me. Slytherin has a Keeper and a Seeker—what about your Chasers?"

"Since I'm not Seeking, I'll be a Chaser," Regulus offered.

"I'll be one too," Andromeda added.

"And I'll be on Mum's team!" said Tonks.

"All right, looks like our teams are all picked!" said Sirius, rubbing his hands together. "Now Reg just has to get the brooms and his Snitch and we'll be good to—"

"Hang on," said Holly. "We witches dressed up for a formal party, not a Quidditch match. How am I supposed to play in a gown?"

"Good point," Sirius said shrewdly. "Well…I suppose I could transfigure everyone's clothes so we could play in uniform. Reg, do you want to do the Slytherin uniforms?"

"Got it." Regulus was already wearing his Quidditch robes, but he gave Slytherin uniforms to everyone else who was playing on his team, too.

"Looks like we're ready to go," said Sirius, just as he zapped the last player (himself) into red Gryffindor Quidditch robes. Regulus was staring at Holly; Harry was sure he thought she looked even better in her Quidditch uniform. Just before they mounted their brooms, Sirius made his way over to Harry.

"Remember, Harry," he said in a low voice, "Malfoy might have the better broom, but you're the better player. Don't forget your self-confidence."

Sirius valued self-confidence a lot. Harry strutted across the lawn, like Sirius taught him, and grabbed his broom. Malfoy kept looking over at Astoria as he went to get his own, but he also glared at Harry like he was trying to burn him with his eyes.

"You're going down, Potter," he hissed.

"Down in history, you mean," Harry said back. "While you end up in the loser bin."

Malfoy looked ready to kill, but he didn't say anything more. The teams mounted their brooms, Regulus let the Snitch out, and ten brooms rose into the air.

Things started out fine at first. Harry thought Cassiopeia was surprisingly light on a broom for someone who was eighty years old. She was naturally a better Keeper than George Weasley, who was normally a Beater. Holly was an incredibly talented Chaser, though, and Harry knew he had a better chance of catching the Snitch than Malfoy. Harry had never lost a match, and this was probably the closest thing to a legitimate match Malfoy had _ever_ played.

Harry did what he had done during the school year, which was circle above everyone else, looking for a glint of gold. Malfoy was still pink-faced but he was flying around the stadium, too. Harry hoped Malfoy wouldn't try to tail him, but he had a plan if that happened.

Holly aimed towards the Slytherin goal. The Quaffle sailed across the lawn, but Cassiopeia expertly blocked it. She tossed it to Tonks, who tossed it to Regulus, but Regulus fumbled it. Holly swooped underneath him and, twirling in midair, grabbed the Quaffle.

"REGULUS BLACK!" Cassiopeia screeched, flying across the giant goal hoops they had conjured. "THIS IS NO TIME TO BE A GENTLEMAN! IF YOU LOSE US THIS GAME, I'M GOING TO PUT YOU OVER MY KNEE AND _SPANK_ YOU!"

Understandably, Regulus looked alarmed. Holly laughed.

"Sirius!" she called. "Think fast!"

Sirius caught the Quaffle, aimed and scored. Slytherin had already scored a few goals, but Gryffindor had gotten their first of the match. Everyone in Gryffindor cheered, and so did Barbara. Sirius did a victory lap around the lawn as Holly caught the Quaffle and Gryffindor scored another goal.

The game got dirtier. Tonks fouled Holly by knocking her out of the way to get the Quaffle thrown by Fred, and Sirius fouled Andromeda when he flew in the way of the Quaffle she aimed towards the Gryffindor goal. Cassiopeia was ruthless, worse even than Oliver Wood; she whacked the Quaffle out of her way and right into Sirius's face, giving him a bloody nose. George quickly got the hang of Keeping, and Slytherin started scoring less goals, which infuriated Cassiopeia, who kept criticizing Regulus for "playing fair". Fred tried to pry the Quaffle out of Regulus's hands; despite this, Regulus didn't knock Fred off his broom, which was what Cassiopeia suggested.

Harry was surprised Malfoy hadn't fouled him yet—but he had no sooner finished reflecting on this when bam, he felt someone smack into him at full force, sending him spiraling out of control; as he put his glasses right, he saw that it was Malfoy, and he was racing towards the Snitch. His fingers could close on it at any minute—Slytherin would win for sure—

Then, suddenly, the Quaffle bounced off of Malfoy's head, with a sound rather like a basketball hitting the floor of the basketball court.

"OW!" he screamed, rubbing his head, and in his distraction, he lost track of the Snitch. But Harry didn't.

"Oops! Sorry, Malfoy! Meant to pass that to Holly!" Sirius called, smirking.

"Got it!" said Holly, her fingers closing around the big red ball, beating Andromeda to it. As she aimed for another goal—

"Harry, GO!" screamed Hermione from the ground. Harry put on a burst of speed, Malfoy on his tail, tracking the Snitch down to the grass, where just as they both hit the ground, Harry's hand closed around the Golden Snitch.

"GRYFFINDOR WINS!" Ron roared. "SLYTHERIN LOSES! CRUSHING, AGONIZING DEFEAT!"

Malfoy didn't take the outcome of the game well. His cheeks turned as red as the Quaffle; tears of anger shone in his gray eyes as he ran up to Lucius, shouting, "THAT WASN'T FAIR! THEY HAD A REAL CHASER AND SEEKER!"

"Oh, so you aren't a real Seeker?" said Sirius gleefully. "Besides, you might not have had any official Chasers, but if Cassiopeia isn't a 'real' Keeper, I don't know who is."

Cassiopeia didn't look too happy, but she walked up to Malfoy and cuffed him with the cane, although lighter than she had when she did it to his father.

"I'm not happy Slytherin lost either, but for goodness sake, don't humiliate yourself more by being a sore loser," she snapped.

Things would have been bad enough for Malfoy, but that was when his mother, Narcissa, came running out of the crowd. She wrapped her arms around him and gave him a huge wet kiss on the cheek, then another on his blonde head.

"Don't worry, honey, Mummy loves you whether you win at Quidditch or not," she cooed.

" _Mo_ -ther! Get off!" Malfoy cried in embarrassment. Daphne and Astoria were giggling.

"Come on, everyone, it's just a _game_ ," Regulus reminded them. "I think everyone showed good flying ability today."

"Especially Harry," said Sirius. "But you flew well too, Regulus."

Holly's ponytail was falling out and her red-and-gold Quidditch robes were falling off her shoulders, but her eyes were gleaming. She walked up to Regulus and grinned at him, leaning on her broom.

"You're an amazing flier, especially considering you aren't even normally a Chaser like I am," she told him. "You showed good sportsmanship, too. And not everyone could have stood up to Lucius Malfoy. I thought you were really great."

"I try," said Regulus, smiling at her. "By the way, Holly, I wanted to ask…may I speak with your father?"

"Sure, he's right over there," said Holly, pointing. Regulus swallowed; Sirius gave him a thumbs-up of encouragement, and Harry nodded. It looked rather like he was going off to war, but Regulus went to speak with Mr. Greengrass. Harry knew what they were talking about. Regulus was asking for permission to court Holly.

"You want to talk about amazing fliers," said Sirius to Holly. "I had no idea you could fly so well. Most reserves are pretty bad, to be frank."

"Thanks," she said. "I've been doing it a long time. And I know I was only a reserve, but I always made sure I never got rusty, just in case they needed me."

"And they did," Sirius said satisfactorily.

Not long after, Regulus walked back over to them, accompanied by Holly's father.

"Holly, dear," said Mr. Greengrass, placing one hand on his daughter's shoulder. "Regulus Black has requested permission to court you. I told him nothing would please me more. I now present you with his request."

Regulus smiled hopefully. Holly raised an eyebrow and walked towards him.

"What took you so long?" she said.

And next thing you know, she reached up, held his face in her hands, and gave him a long, passionate kiss on the lips. Sirius's Transfiguration on her clothing chose that moment to wear off, too, so as they kissed, as if in slow motion, her messy Quidditch robes and tangled hair faded and gave way to her beautiful red-and-gold ball gown and elaborate updo. Her nail polish and makeup came back, and she stood up a little taller as her golden high heels returned, too.

As their lips separated, but they still held each other, as olive-green eyes met diamond-blue, Sirius wolf-whistled, Barbara laughed, then everyone cheered.


	12. Quarreling

Everyone left in a great mood that day. Barbara cooked them a great dinner, and they toasted to Regulus and Holly again, even if the couple wasn't there. They went to bed full and happy, and Harry had a dream where the world was made of treacle tart, which was a good dream, even though it made him hungry when he woke up the next day.

It was about ten when Harry was finally so hungry that he decided to get up for the day, plus he couldn't stand the taste of his own breath anymore. After he brushed his teeth he wandered into the drawing room, still in his pajamas. Barbara was there too, wearing her "Future MILF" T-shirt, pajama pants and fuzzy pink socks. Her hair was in a bun on top of her head, but locks of hair had fallen out, and it was sticking to her face.

"M-Morning, honey." Barbara stifled a yawn. "Want breakfast?"

"No, I'll just make myself cereal," he told her. Poor Barbara looked overheated and tired.

"You're so sweet," she mumbled, then passed out on the couch.

Harry was eating his cereal when Sirius walked into the room too. He looked even more tired than Barbara, probably because he wasn't a morning person by any means. His hair was completely a mess and, like usual, he was sporting a few days' worth of stubble. He was wearing pajama pants and his FBI T-shirt.

"Sirius," said Harry, "what does FBI stand for?"

"Whuh?" Sirius looked down at the shirt, then grunted, "Oh. It's the Federal Bureau of Investigation."

"But we don't have the FBI here," Harry reminded him. "That's an American thing."

"Whatever," Sirius said sleepily, joining Barbara on the couch.

"Why is Barbara on the couch, anyway?" said Harry. "What, did you kick her out for snoring too loud or something?"

"No, she was already out here when I woke up," Sirius said, yawning and leaning on Barbara. "It's hard for her to have a lie-in, y'know, being pregnant and all."

Sirius fell back asleep, too, and he and Barbara slept there together, Sirius cuddling her in his sleep. Harry rolled his eyes and continued eating his breakfast. But Sirius and Barbara were both awakened by a loud rapping at the door of the flat.

"What? Who's there?" said Sirius sleepily, his head perking up like a dog's. Barbara giggled. Harry went over to the door and opened it; there was Gwen, with her dyed-blonde hair and square black glasses. She looked a lot less foreboding than the night he'd met her, which was about a year ago now. She liked Sirius a lot, although she didn't really attempt to hide that it was because he was a rich heir.

"Mum?" Barbara mumbled.

"My goodness, darling, look at you!" said Gwendolyn in shock. She was holding several grocery bags in her arms. "When was the last time you washed your hair? Have you taken your prenatal vitamins for today? When was your last doctor's appointment? Have you been eating healthy? How's that pregnancy aerobics class you signed up for going?"

"Pregnancy aerobics?" said Harry.

"Yes, don't you remember?" Barbara gave Harry a meaningful look.

"Oh yeah," Sirius added, cottoning on. "She goes every week."

"Every week!" Gwen glared at Barbara as she placed the bag of groceries on the floor. "You told me the aerobics class met three times weekly!"

"Yeah…but I had to only go once a week because I swim and take pregnancy yoga classes too," Barbara said quickly. "Oh, and spin class."

These were the most extreme of lies Harry had ever heard Barbara tell, because she only went to work at Bunsen and Barnes about once a week now, since Mr. Glacier was so generous with all the paid maternity leave, and she had given him her two weeks' notice, anyway. Her pregnancy exercises basically consisted of walking to the fridge for more ice cream.

"Well, goodness, don't overexert yourself!" Gwen cried. "Barbara Catherine Raffelovich, what am I going to do with you?"

Barbara looked like she wanted very much to say, "Leave me alone, please," but she didn't.

"And what does MILF stand for?" Gwen demanded, pointing at Barbara's shirt.

"Mother I'd like to…mother I'd like to…" Barbara was looking around nervously.

"Find?" Sirius supplied.

"Right," said Barbara in relief. "Mother I'd Like to Find."

Nobody had told Harry what MILF really meant. But he got the feeling Sirius and Barbara weren't being exactly truthful. And coming out of Sirius's mouth, "Mother I'd Like to Find" was just depressing.

"Very well." Gwendolyn still looked a little suspicious, but she didn't press the matter. "Anyway, Barbara, I want you to know, I've signed you and Sirius up for a birthing class."

"For a _what?!"_ Barbara shrieked. "Mum— _no_ —"

"You're certainly not going into the delivery room cold, dear," Gwen said strictly. "Besides, childbirth class is so rewarding. There are so many things even adult women today don't know about their bodies, so it's a good remedial course."

"I'm not doing it!" Barbara insisted. "I already know everything, anyway!"

" _Do_ you?" Gwen raised an eyebrow. "What's the difference between estrogen and progesterone?"

"Oh, um…" Barbara's face reddened. "Uh, I…don't know, actually."

"Exactly," said Gwen, but then she rolled her eyes and shrugged. "But I can't _really_ influence what you do, dear, after all, you're twenty-five years old, you're your own person…Don't listen to your _mother_ , the one who gave you _life_ , the one who's _only trying to help_ —no, don't mind me, I'll just leave now, don't bother to—"

"OKAY!" Barbara shouted.

"Well…it _is_ your decision," said Gwen. "Now, here's a pamphlet that tells you a little about the class—and I'm going to put those groceries in the fridge."

Gwen set the pamphlet on the coffee table and walked into the kitchen, humming to herself.

"Sorry about that," Barbara told Harry and Sirius. "Sometimes 'okay' is the only way to get a mum to stop yelling."

"Gwen wasn't yelling," said Sirius. "She told you we didn't have to go if we didn't want to."

"She's _guilting_ us, Sirius," Barbara told him irritably. "My mother is the master of guilt-trips."

"I'll see you soon, darling!" Gwen cried cheerily on her way out the door.

" _Oy vey_ ," Barbara muttered.

"Are all mothers like that?" Harry asked, once he was sure Gwendolyn had left.

"I don't think so," Barbara replied with a sigh. "But I know mine is."

"What is childbirth class, anyway?" said Sirius. "I've never heard of anything like that."

"Well, you could say it's practice for having a baby," Barbara told him. "But it'll be just like Health class all over again, I'm sure of it. They make you watch the Miracle of Life video."

"What's that?" said Harry.

"It's just what it sounds like." Barbara sighed. "It's a video of a woman giving birth."

"That can't be so bad," Harry told her. "Women are always having babies on soap operas."

"Not _that_ kind of birth," Barbara snapped. "I mean a _real_ birth. They made us girls watch it in secondary school. Twelve years old and a face full of some screaming woman's fully dilated cervix. No, thanks."

"They made you _watch_ that?" Sirius said in surprise. "And more importantly, some mother had her baby's birth videotaped and shared it with secondary schools everywhere?"

"Yeah," said Barbara. "Two girls passed out right in their seats when the baby crowned. And for the rest of the year, we wouldn't let the boys anywhere near us—it was like they were all carrying some sort of fatal disease."

"As opposed to unsolicited boners 24/7."

"But then," said Barbara, "this rumor started going around that you could get pregnant if a boy simply looked you in the eyes, which caused a big stir."

"I must admit, I haven't heard that one." Sirius grinned. "Do they make you do anything else in the class?"

"Well, besides the crash course in female anatomy, they also make you practice pushing, I guess," Barbara said, standing up and looking through her pamphlet.

"You mean they make _you_ practice pushing, don't they?" said Harry, pointing.

"Well, actually, it says they do the 'empathy birth' sometimes," Barbara told him casually.

"Do I even _want_ to know what that is?" Sirius asked suspiciously.

"Hmm…well, it seems like you're going to have to have a baby, Siri."

Sirius frowned. His arms were crossed behind his head, and his legs were crossed at the ankles, up on the coffee table, just like Aunt Petunia was always telling Uncle Vernon _not_ to do, which would cause him to bellow that it was his house and his coffee table, and she would screech back that she was the one who had to clean it, and…well, there weren't any coffee tables to fight over anymore, Harry thought with a rather wicked grin.

"What're you smirking about?" said Sirius, turning to Harry.

"Nothing," Harry told him. "But that is funny."

"And it says we have to bring two pillows, plus a yoga mat," said Barbara.

"Why don't you use the yoga mat from your imaginary pregnancy yoga class?" Sirius asked sardonically. "Or did you leave it at fictional spin class?"

"Oh, like _you've_ never told a lie to stop your mum nagging you." Barbara rolled her eyes. "This one's a problem, though. We don't have any matching pillows, or at least not any without weird stains on them. We probably will need to buy new ones."

"Yeah, because the other couples at our birthing class are totally going to judge our character according to the quality of our pillows."

Harry snorted with laughter, but Barbara glared.

"I _mean_ it!" she cried. "They _are_ going to judge us, as soon as we get in the room!"

"They will if you wear that 'Future MILF' shirt of yours," Sirius said back, "especially because not everyone is as naïve as Gwen."

"You're one to talk, Mr. Female-Body-Inspector," she said accusingly.

"So _that's_ what it stands for!" said Harry.

"Yeah, kind of sick, isn't it?" Barbara shot daggers at Sirius with her eyes.

"Oh, and MILF _isn't_ sick?"

"You bought it for me!"

"You asked for it!"

"I cannot _believe_ you!" Barbara stormed, throwing the pamphlet down onto the coffee table. "No matter how many empathy births you have to give, you'll NEVER understand what it's like to be as pregnant as I am!"

"Good!" shouted Sirius, who was by now on his feet, too. "I'm glad!"

Barbara didn't say anything, just stalked into her room and slammed the door. Harry thought at first that she and Sirius had been joking or flirting, but somehow they'd crossed the line over into quarreling. It was terrible. What if they never made up? What if the wedding got called off? Sirius had bought such a beautiful ring—he would have to return it to the store! What if Barbara left Harry and Sirius and took Phoebe with her, and Harry never even got to meet Phoebe, even though he felt like he already knew her, somehow? The thought was just too horrible to entertain.

"Oh, Sirius, why'd you have to piss her off?" Harry bleated. "Now I'll _never_ get to meet Phoebe!"

And before Sirius could say anything, Harry ran into his room and slammed the door, too.


	13. DILF

Harry thought Sirius might come in and talk to him, but he didn't. Sitting on his bed, sulking, Harry's mind drifted back to the beginning of first year, when he had a fight with Hermione that threatened to break them up forever. That was before they had started going together, but Harry still didn't want to ruin a good friendship. He felt differently for Hermione than he did for, say, Ron, but it had been devastating. That was probably how Sirius felt now. Or was he still angry? Was he sitting there in the drawing room right now, fuming?

It was settled, then…Harry wasn't coming out of his room ever again. He hadn't liked Barbara at first, but he liked her now, and of course he had _so_ been looking forward to meeting Phoebe. Having Barbara around was not quite, but almost like having a mother. Not necessarily the most responsible mother, but a loving one, and wasn't that what mattered?

After a couple hours, Harry's plans to stay in his room forever were interrupted by the fact that he was getting hungry. Besides, if Sirius wasn't going to talk to him, maybe he should talk to Sirius. He walked back out into the drawing room, but it was empty. The door to Barbara and Sirius's room was still shut, but Harry had a feeling Barbara was still in there alone. Sirius wasn't in the kitchen, either, but Harry found a note on the island.

 _Harry –_

 _I've gone for a walk. I'll be back soon._

 _Sirius_

Harry looked around. Sirius's keys were still on the island, right next to the note (Harry wondered if he had deliberately placed them there), and when Harry looked outside, his motorcycle was still in the parking lot. So he definitely hadn't left for good or anything. Not that Harry expected him to. Harry wished he could have had a chance to talk to Sirius before he left. Sirius had tried to help him after his fight with Hermione, after all.

" _Did something go wrong between you and Hermione?" Sirius asked softly._

 _Harry just nodded mutely, too distraught to ask how on Earth Sirius knew this._

" _Oh, I'm sorry, mate," Sirius said sadly. "I was hoping you wouldn't have to go through this so soon."_

" _It's all over," Harry told him, wiping his nose on his sleeve. "She was so great. I was just glad she existed—and now it's all over…Why, Sirius? Why did it have to happen?!"_

" _Women will hurt you sometimes, bad," Sirius said quietly. "I know it's hard. But if there's anything I can do, anything at all—"_

" _I want Hermione back!" Harry wailed, knowing full-well that he was a mess, but he didn't care._

" _Oh, Harry," said Sirius miserably, rubbing Harry's back. "I wish I could bring her back. I wish I could take your pain away from you—I wish I could feel it for you. But I can't. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry."_

In retrospect, Harry realized Sirius had mistakenly thought Harry had asked Hermione to be his girlfriend and got turned down, or that they had been together but broken up. Sirius knew about Harry's crush on Hermione long before Harry did, after all. Harry knew Sirius meant it when he said he wished he could feel Harry's pain for him, but Harry had to admit he didn't really want to feel Sirius's pain for him. He didn't know what to say to make things better. All he knew was that he wanted this to go away.

Harry grabbed a leftover brownie out of the fridge and crammed it in his mouth, feeling sorry for himself. Without Barbara, there would be no more brownies. Maybe she would send a bunch of them laced with spinach or poison or something.

At least the TV was free. Harry planned to let his brain rot watching TV until Sirius came back, but before he turned it on, he heard a noise coming from Sirius and Barbara's room.

Was that…was Barbara _crying?_

Harry made his choice and stood up, walking slowly to the door, and knocked.

"Go away," said Barbara's voice. It sounded very stuffed-up. So she _had_ been crying.

"It's—it's me, Harry," whispered Harry. "Will you open the door? I-I just want to talk."

Then came the sound of slow, quiet footsteps, and Barbara opened the door. She was still wearing her pajamas and her hair looked even messier and oilier than before. But she had changed out of her MILF shirt, which for some reason made Harry feel sad. Her eyes were red and so were her cheeks.

"Okay, then," she mumbled. "What d'you want to talk about?"

"I-I just want you to know…" Harry swallowed. "Please don't leave us, Barbara. I like you a lot and I really don't—I don't want to lose my baby sister before I meet her."

"What—what—" Barbara was looking confused now. "What are you talking about, Harry?"

Except for when Sirius had his heart attack, Harry had never cried in front of Barbara, and he _wasn't_ going to start now. But for someone who wasn't going to cry, his throat did feel awfully tight.

"I-I thought you and Sirius had a f-fight," he said miserably, wiping his eyes on his sleeve.

"Oh, sweetie," said Barbara, bending down to give Harry a hug. "Yes, we fought…but that doesn't mean I'm going to _leave_ him. If every little spat was a breakup, nobody would be married."

Both of them sat down on the bed. Barbara put her arm around Harry.

"Where is he, anyway?" she asked.

"Just on a walk," Harry mumbled. "But don't worry, he left his keys here."

"I know, honey," said Barbara with a sigh. "Sirius isn't an abandoning sort of man."

"What are you going to do when he gets back?" Harry asked.

"I'm not sure," she said quietly. "I-I guess I do feel bad. In a fight, nobody's ever really blameless."

"So why did you fight then?"

"I-I just don't _know_ ," Barbara admitted. "I feel like…I feel like I have all this stress, and—and then I take it out on the people I love. I don't even know _why_ I'm stressed. I just am."

"Maybe it's because you're afraid you're not going to be a good enough mother?" Harry offered.

"Yeah," she said. "That's some of it, I suppose. What if I end up like _my_ mother?"

"Just do the opposite of everything your mother did," Harry said helpfully. "That's what Sirius is planning on doing."

"At least I know Mum's heart is in the right place," said Barbara slowly. "Sirius didn't really have that, did he?"

"No," said Harry morosely. "But he turned out okay."

Harry didn't tell Barbara about how he wondered if the emptiness he still saw sometimes in Sirius's eyes came from losing the Potters, or if it came from Azkaban, or if it came from his childhood. Harry could relate to the last one; horribly, the only thing he could remember at all about his parents was the day they died, and even that was hazy. He was just starting to learn now what it was like to have a family, and it was incredibly confusing. At least Sirius did look a little happier these days; after all, he had a daughter, a fiancée, and a godson. He had lost a brother eleven years ago, but he had also recently gotten one back.

"We've really got a racket going, haven't we?" Barbara said finally. "Me, being pregnant and all…you, about to be a big brother and a groomsman both…"

"Sirius, about to marry you," Harry said, but then he paused. "The wedding _is_ still on, isn't it?"

"Of course it is, honey," Barbara reassured him. "I feel simply terrible."

"I bet he feels even worse."

"Well, you've known him for longer than I have," said Barbara with a sigh.

"Not much longer," Harry reminded her. "I mean, I know he knew me from the day I was born, but I can't remember a thing."

Harry wished he could remember a thing, though. Even just _one_ thing, besides his parents' tragic deaths. He wished he could remember his mother holding him and singing to him. He wished he could remember his father laughing as he rode his toy broomstick. He wished he could remember the times when he was the fussiest little baby you ever met, and only Sirius had been able to calm him down and get a smile out of him, and he'd fall asleep on his godfather's shoulder, in those arms he always felt safe in.

"You okay, sweetie?" Barbara asked.

"Yeah," said Harry. "But let me tell you one thing, Barbara. As long as you love Phoebe, you'll be a good mother. She just needs someone to hold onto when her life spins out of control. I think you can manage that."

"I'll try," she said bracingly, and that was when they heard the front door slam (Sirius had left his keys behind, but it seemed he hadn't locked the door).

"Harry?" Sirius called. "Barbara?"

"C'mon," said Harry, standing up and reaching out for Barbara's hand. She took it in hers, and he helped pull her off the bed.

"S-Siri?" Barbara said uncertainly. "You're home?"

"What's in the bag?" Harry asked, pointing; Sirius was holding a large shopping bag.

Sirius smiled a little nervously and set it down. "Take a look for yourself."

Harry somehow felt that the gift in the bag wasn't for him, and he let Barbara take a peek. He was confused as he saw her pull two matching frilly pink pillows out of the bag.

"What's…what's all _this?"_ she asked, examining her pillows in shock.

"Matching pillows," said Sirius. "Because, y'know, people can be pretty shallow. They very well might judge us on our pillow quality. I bought them in your favorite color."

Barbara looked like she didn't know _what_ to say, but Sirius wasn't finished yet.

"I bought something for myself, too," he said.

"What did you get?" said Harry.

Sirius opened his motorcycle jacket, and instead of his black FBI shirt, he was wearing a new shirt, a blue one, and it read: _DILF._

"DILF?" said Barbara. "That's just as trashy as MILF."

"Why would it be trashy?" Sirius asked innocently. "It means 'Devoted, Involved, Loving Father.'"

Harry was pretty surprised at that, but not nearly as much as Barbara was. He watched as her hazel eyes filled with tears, and next thing you know she had burst into tears and flung her arms around Sirius's neck.

"Oh, I love you, Siri!" she sobbed. "You—you didn't have to…"

"Well, maybe not, but you see, a devoted, involved, loving father just can't help himself," said Sirius, giving her a hug, burying his nose in her hair, rubbing her back, as she squeezed him tight.

"What happened to the FBI shirt?" Harry asked.

"I decided to give it to a thrift store," said Sirius. "Now some perverted guy can have it for half-price."

Sirius's smile was so welcome to Harry right then, and he ran up and hugged them too. He remembered how back in primary school, he had always watched loving parents pick their kids up from school, and he'd been so jealous he felt dizzy, knowing what awaited him at home. His life had changed drastically since then. But as long as he had Sirius and Barbara to hold onto, even as life spun him upside down like a carnival ride, he knew he'd be just fine.


	14. Love, Lust, and Lessons

It turned out that the birthing class Sirius and Barbara had to go to was a weekend-long crash course. It was at a Muggle children's hospital nearby. Barbara would learn breathing and coping techniques, and Sirius would learn them too, in case she forgot, according to the pamphlet. Barbara didn't seem very enthusiastic, but Sirius was at least a little interested. He had never heard of anything like that before.

"It sounds a little strange to me," he said. "I always thought women just had their babies."

"That's fine if you're a witch and you have a potion to make it easier," Barbara said simply. "But Muggle women don't."

"Well, you will," Sirius replied, and Harry thought he saw her tense just a little less.

Sirius told Harry he could have Ron and Hermione over, and maybe when he and Barbara got back from the hospital on Saturday evening, they could all have dinner together, and maybe talk about what they'd learned in the birthing class. Harry figured Ron and Hermione would think that was pretty funny, so once Barbara and Sirius left around noon on Saturday, he invited them both over. Ron arrived via Floo, and he and Harry buzzed Hermione in.

"I'm so happy for them, I really am," she said as she walked through the door. "And I think Gwen was right. Barbara will do better after taking this class."

"Is it true they're going to make Sirius pretend to have a baby?" Harry asked.

"Probably not, as it would be a little counterintuitive," Hermione replied. "Barbara is the one who needs the practice, after all."

"Is that what he said?" Ron asked. "Why would they make him do that?"

"To feel Barbara's _pain_ , Ron," said Hermione, like this explained everything. "During an empathy birth, he'll start to understand how it feels, just a little, to push a fully-grown infant out of your personal regions."

"So," said Ron, "kind of like taking a massive—"

"Don't say it!" Hermione snapped, with her best "Professor McGonagall" look, so he didn't.

Harry and Hermione, naturally, tuned into "Love and Lust," which usually played during the school/work day due to their target demographic being home alone during those hours, but was also on during the weekends. They ordered pizza and watched the show. Ron hadn't watched TV before in his life, and his reaction was similar to Sirius's when Harry first introduced _him_ to TV.

"So you do have moving pictures!" Ron said triumphantly.

"In a way, yes," said Hermione.

It just so happened that today's episode featured a birth, albeit probably one very different than the one Sirius and Barbara were witnessing.

"YOU'RE GOING TO HAVE TO PUSH EVEN HARDER, LISA!" the doctor was shouting. He was sitting on a tiny stool right in between the mother's outstretched legs, which were in stirrups. Lisa was the main character, who nobody ever thought would have a baby.

Lisa let out a scream which made all three wince.

"She's doing it wrong," said Hermione, who was looking through the pamphlet (leave it to Hermione to read anything someone put under her nose). "It says you're not supposed to lay down when you have a baby, and you're not supposed to scream like that."

"Wouldn't you be screaming?" Harry asked.

"Actually…it says you're supposed to be making these sort of grunting noises," Hermione said in interest. "It's supposed to relax your body. Screaming makes you tense."

Lisa was now moaning in pain. The father, watching the baby come out, yelled for her to keep pushing.

"That's really unrealistic," Hermione said critically. "She doesn't look like she's really pushing. The actors on this show are so bad."

Lisa screamed at the top of her lungs.

"There's the baby's head!" said the baby's father (who wasn't Lisa's boyfriend or husband).

"Oops…you tore," said the nurse. Lisa screamed again.

" _Tore?"_ said Harry. "Tore _what?"_

"Trust me," Hermione said back, "you don't want to know."

"How can anyone legitimately enjoy this?" said Ron in disbelief. "I know we only watch these shows ironically, but are there really women out there who actually like this stuff?"

"Aunt Petunia loves it," said Harry.

"Really?!"

"Even more than she loves spying on Mrs. Next Door."

"Barking mad," said Ron, shaking his head.

Hermione, especially after reading the pamphlet, looked extremely critical. Ron just seemed to be in shock about it all. Harry wondered if Barbara would be pushing like that, and how big, exactly, Phoebe would really have to be, to cause that amount of pain. Babies weren't _that_ big, were they?

"I don't know how it could really hurt her that much," Harry said to his friends, thinking out loud. "Babies are so _small_. Do they shrink a lot after they're born or something?"

"Babies may be small," said Hermione, in her classic know-it-all way, "but the place they come out of is much smaller."

"Can you believe," said Ron, "my mother did that seven times?"

"Six," Hermione corrected.

"What?" said Ron. "She's got seven kids, including me."

"Yes, but when there's a set of twins, you only have to labor once."

"SHE'S ALMOST HERE! SHE'S COMING!" shouted the father enthusiastically.

"I'M BEING TORN IN HALF!" Lisa howled.

"I don't see how anybody could watch it like he is, do you?" Ron commented, putting down a slice of pizza he had been about to eat. "I mean, it's probably pretty disgusting."

"Ron!" Hermione, aghast, turned to stare at him. "Childbirth is _not_ disgusting. It's a natural function."

"So is having the runs," said Ron.

"You are _so_ immature," Hermione snapped. "How could you _possibly_ compare that to the Miracle of Life?"

"For a miracle," Ron replied, "it's awfully messy."

"Who CARES if it's messy, it's _human life_ coming out of there—"

"Guys!" Harry interrupted. "GUYS! Look…"

Ron and Hermione both gasped. The baby was born. Tears filled Lisa's eyes, and she had stopped screaming. Carefully, the doctor set the baby in her arms, and she held it against her chest. Her hair was sweaty and she was clearly exhausted, but Harry had never seen anyone look so happy.

"Congratulations, Lisa," said the doctor, looking very happy himself. "You have given birth to a beautiful baby girl."

All three of the Golden Trio were staring at the baby in shock. She was so small!

"They cry like that to get extra air out of their lungs," Hermione explained.

"Well…I guess it is kind of cute," Ron admitted.

Harry couldn't deny that it was a little tear-jerking. Gentle music played in the background as the new parents rocked the baby and slowly, she stopped crying. Then the baby opened her lovely eyes, looking up at Lisa innocently. Hermione wiped her eyes and sniffed; Ron cleared his throat noisily; Harry smiled at them, feeling a little choked up himself.

The rest of the episode involved naming the baby (Ruth), showing her off to everyone, and Lisa deciding to start officially dating the father, once and for all. Harry could not BELIEVE an episode of "Love and Lust" had managed to tug at his emotions. Was it just because someday soon that would be Sirius and Barbara, looking down with nothing but love at Phoebe?

"I-I guess that episode wasn't so bad, at least for this show," said Hermione, as if reading Harry's thoughts.

"Yeah," Harry agreed, slipping his hand into hers.

…

They spent another couple of hours watching "Love and Lust"; after getting used to how bad the show was in general, Ron enjoyed happily abusing it with them. After that they ate peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwiches, and once 5:30 rolled around, Sirius and Barbara arrived back home.

"Hello?" Sirius called.

"How was class?" said Harry, walking out of the kitchen and into the main room. Barbara started to try and take one of her flats off, but was having trouble doing it with her feet alone. She couldn't really bend over, so she lost her footing and fell onto the floor. Sirius helped her take her shoes off, then helped her up.

"Well, we watched the Miracle of Life again," Barbara told him, rolling her eyes.

"I think we were all pretty much in awe at first," Sirius told them. "They showed how it grows inside the mother and all that. But when it came time for the baby's birth, things got a bit graphic."

"We watched a birth, too," Ron told them.

"Really?" said Barbara.

"Yeah, but it was on 'Love and Lust,' and not very realistic," Hermione told her.

Barbara had brought home takeout from Reggie's Pizza Empire for them to eat, since she got the Family Discount and was too tired to cook.

"Did you see Regulus?" Harry asked as they sat down to dinner.

"No," said Sirius. "He's in America right now."

"Why?" Ron asked.

"Well, there are six restaurants there, aren't there?" Sirius reminded him. "So he has to go there every once in awhile to check up on things. I'm sure they're doing fine—although he says Reggie's Pizza Empire is way more popular in Britain. And he's kind of got a monopoly on the pizza market here. The competition is stiffer in Chicagoland."

"Oh," said Hermione, then she added, "I've been meaning to ask—did you two do the empathy birth?"

"Harry told you about that, eh?" Sirius laughed. "I don't know if we're going to do it or not, actually. We just watched a lot of videos and practiced breathing, then we did this thing with ice cubes…"

"Ice cubes?" said Harry.

"Yeah." Barbara nodded. "They made us hold them, and we had to use our breathing exercises to power through the ice cube's cold. I can't say breathing deeply really helped a lot."

"Maybe you weren't doing it correctly," said Sirius, grinning.

"Oh, and you were sooo calm yourself…" Barbara rolled her eyes and turned to the Trio. "Sirius really can handle a decent amount of pain. But the ice cubes were hard on a lot of the students in class."

"Hermione says you're supposed to make grunting sounds," Harry told her.

"Yeah, we went over that," said Barbara. "I'm definitely not going to do it, though. The teacher sounded like a water buffalo."

"True," said Sirius. "Anyway…the teacher said she had a surprise for us tomorrow."

"I think it might be the empathy birth," said Barbara, "because she said it would take a brave mum or a _very_ brave dad to try it out."

…

When Sirius and Barbara came home on Sunday evening, Barbara looked like she was trying to fight back a grin, but Sirius looked like he'd been run through the mill. When Harry asked what was wrong, he just shook his head and fell back onto the couch. Harry, Ron, and Hermione then turned to Barbara, who laughed.

"We did the empathy birth," she told them with a smirk, "just as I predicted."

"Did you use the liquid nitrogen again?" Hermione asked.

"No," Sirius gasped from the couch. "Worse."

"What'd they do to him, then?" said Ron incredulously.

"There's this machine they had…"

"DON'T talk about it!" Sirius shouted, but she rolled her eyes and kept telling them anyway.

"The teacher had a special machine called a labor simulator, and they put these electrical pads on his stomach," said Barbara. "When you turn it on, it causes his muscles to contract painfully."

"Not only _that_ ," said Sirius miserably, "but Barbara had to use this knit replica of a certain female organ and squeeze a doll out of it, except the doll couldn't make any progress coming out unless I got shocked while pretending to push, and all the women got to have a turn shocking me."

"Sirius looked like he was constipated when he was doing the pushing," Barbara said with a laugh, "and you should've heard him scream. Everybody was cracking up, and the teacher kept telling him to breathe deeply."

"As if you _could_ breathe deeply, when somebody keeps shocking you with a 10," Sirius snapped.

"But come on," said Barbara. "You're the one who volunteered to do it. I could've done it."

"Yeah, well…" Sirius sat up on the couch unsteadily. "I kind of wanted to be a good sport about it. I knew I was the only one who wasn't going to have to go through it for real. I think shocking me must've been a real stress reliever for a lot of the mothers—and we all needed some laughs after that video."

"Oh, I love you, silly Siri," Barbara cooed, kissing him on the forehead. "You're right. Pregnancy stresses a woman out sometimes, and one of the best ways a man can support her is by empathizing."

"Plus, now I know why my mother hated me so much," Sirius said jokingly.

"Don't say that," said Barbara, rubbing his cheek. "You're very loveable, Siri. Besides, think about it…if that kind of pain was the only way to bring Phoebe into the world, wouldn't you do it? You know, if guys really did have to have the babies?"

"I'd do it all day," Sirius told her, and Harry could see in his eyes and smile that he meant it. Barbara beamed, went to the kitchen, and brought out some brownies for him.

…

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE: STAY TUNED IF YOU WANT TO READ AN OUT-TAKE FEATURING THE CHILDBIRTH CLASSES AND SIRIUS DOING THE EMPATHY BIRTH! Also, let me know if you think it should be one long chapter or separated into two (one chapter for Saturday's class, one for Sunday). I think I will do two, since I don't really like chapters to be too long, but let me know what you think.**


	15. Regulus's Bet

The next morning, Harry had Hermione over again. Barbara was relaxing on the couch, and _Love and Lust_ was playing in the background (ironically, of course). During one of the ad breaks, Sirius suggested that maybe they could practice magic, so they didn't get rusty.

"What about the Trace?" said Hermione, raising her eyebrows.

"Never mind that," Sirius told her with an apathetic flip of his hand. "It works by tracing the underage wizard's location, not the actual underage wizard. So if you're the only witch or wizard around, like a Muggle-born, they'll know it's you and you'll get in trouble. But if you live in a house with one or more adult wizards, or even a house-elf, they'll never know."

"That's still breaking rules," she insisted.

"But it counts as studying, too," Harry reminded her with a grin. "Now you're caught between the middle of your two great loves—following rules and studying."

"Oh…all right, then." Hermione smiled too and took out her wand. "What do you want to practice? NOT _Expelliarmus_ ," she added, as Harry started to open his mouth.

" _Anything_ but that," Sirius agreed.

"Fine," Harry grouched. "Sirius, what do you think we should work on?"

"Hmm, what about stuff they'll teach you next year, so you can get a head start?" said Sirius. "I think some simple charm work would be a good idea."

"Good!" said Hermione, running to get her bag in the corner and grabbing _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2_. "I bought it early in the school bookstore last year before we left. They're in alphabetical order…How about _Arresto Momentum_?"

"Sure." Sirius nodded. "I'll do it first so you can watch me, then you try it. I need someone to drop an object from a great height."

Harry grabbed a book off of the coffee table and stood on top of the couch, next to Barbara, who was still sitting there, watching them in interest. But before the book could drop onto the ground—

" _Arresto Momentum!"_ said Sirius, pulling out his wand, and the book followed his directions and floated to the ground, less like a heavy object and more like a piece of paper. Pocketing his wand, he added, "You could save somebody's life with that, if you saw them fall out a window or something."

Hermione was surely just about to ask to try it herself when they heard a knock on the door.

"It's open!" Sirius hollered as they all hastily put their wands away…and in came Gwen.

"Guess what!" she chirped.

"Say it, Mum, we're just dying to know," said Barbara sarcastically, but Gwen missed it.

"I have a nice surprise for Sirius and Harry," she replied with a grin. "It'll be great! I bought all the supplies and everything!"

"I'm not so sure about this," said Sirius. "I'm still a little sore from your last surprise, Gwen."

"Oh, don't worry, Sirius, it's nothing like that this time." Gwen laughed. "You and Harry are going away on a nice little camping retreat!"

" _Camping?"_ Sirius raised his eyebrows. "I camped out once with Harry's father for a weekend, actually. And after you do it once, you're an old pro. Sounds good to me."

"I've never been camping before, Sirius," Harry reminded him. It would be great to have one-on-one time with Sirius, but the Dursleys had never taken Harry camping—not that he would want to share a tent with Dudley. He shuddered at the very thought.

"It's easy," Sirius told him. "I'll be your guide. Did you really order all the supplies for us, Gwendolyn?"

"Sure did." Gwen pointed out the window, where a huge truck was driving into the parking lot. "I even borrowed a book of camping tips from my father-in-law, Richard, just to make sure you know how a real outdoorsman does it."

"Does what?" said Harry.

"Survives out in the wild," Barbara told him. "You know what? I think Mum's right for once. Siri, you and Harry need some godfather/godson time. I'm for it."

"Okay!" Gwen rubbed her hands together in glee. "It's done then! I'll just leave now so you two can talk it over, why don't I?"

She let herself out, humming pleasantly.

"Well, something's up, but I don't know what," said Barbara suspiciously.

"You've been camping before, Sirius?" Hermione asked.

"Sure have," he said proudly. "And let me tell you, it is the easiest thing _ever_."

"Easy?" Barbara raised an eyebrow. "I went camping once and I hated it. It's anything but easy."

"The only difficult part about it was pitching the tent, and that's only because James and I couldn't stop laughing," said Sirius. "Want to pitch the tent? Sure, I'm up for it!"

"As immature as that is, we're talking about the Muggle way of camping." Hermione rolled her eyes. "That's how a real outdoorsman does it, as Gwen would say."

"Yeah…" Barbara grinned. "Y'know, using magic on a camping trip is kind of wimpy. Do you even _know_ how to light a match?"

"Light a what?" said Sirius. Barbara and Hermione both laughed.

"You know what I think they should do, Barbara?" said Hermione. "I think the two of them should have to go camping without their wands."

"What?!" Sirius yelled. "No way!"

"Fine, then." Barbara waved her hand airily. "Use your wand to your heart's desire, Siri. We understand if you're not man enough to do it the real way."

"Hey!" Sirius put his hands on his hips and scowled. "There is _nothing_ about me that is not manly!"

"Besides giving birth, right?" Barbara grinned.

"Or what about your Gringotts checks with cute puppies on them?" Hermione added.

"And it wasn't me who put those decorative scented soaps in the bathrooms," said Barbara, " _or_ the matching bath sets."

"What about the towels of extreme fluffiness with the initials 'S.B.' on them?" said Hermione.

"Blasted department stores," Sirius grumbled. "All right, fine. Harry and I can prove we're manly, can't we, Harry?"

"I-I guess so," said Harry with a shrug. The only reason he was really agreeing was because he hadn't gotten much time to spend with Sirius lately—and, of course, he didn't exactly want Hermione thinking he wasn't manly. "As long as you have the book."

That was when they heard another knock on the door.

"It had better not be Mum again," Barbara muttered, but it wasn't. It was Regulus, holding a black roller bag, looking exhausted.

"Reg?" said Sirius in shock. "You okay?"

"Meh." Regulus stumbled into the room, almost collapsing when he let go of his roller bag (luckily, Sirius caught him before he fell). He was wearing a black business suit with a green-and-silver striped tie, which was now untied. His hair was messy and there were bags under his eyes.

"Are you drunk or something?" said Barbara, narrowing her eyes.

"No, just jet lag," Regulus mumbled. "Almost eight hours on a plane, Chicago to London. I barely got any sleep at all. Do you guys mind if I crash on your couch for a couple hours?"

Regulus swayed dangerously on the spot. Sirius nodded.

"Course you can, little brother," he said. "Barbara, scoot over a bit, will you, love?"

Barbara nodded and moved a little to the side. Regulus sunk onto the couch and closed his eyes, letting out a moan of long-needed comfort.

"Could you—could you tell Boss Man I'm gonna be late for work?" he mumbled with a yawn.

" _You're_ the Boss Man, Reggie," Sirius reminded him with a smile, grabbing a blanket from a nearby chair and throwing it over Regulus, then stuffing a pillow underneath his head. "But now Boss Man needs to sleep, not work."

"But, but…the restaurant…" Regulus began, and next thing you know he was out cold.

…

Regulus seemed better after he had some sleep. Sirius made him some coffee, and he stayed for Barbara's spaghetti dinner, too. Harry noticed that he had perfect table manners, which he had also observed back when eating at his dinner parties. Just by looking, Harry could tell Regulus was the sort of man who would _never_ wear a "Female Body Inspector" T-shirt.

In fact, Harry wondered if Regulus owned _any_ T-shirts, so he asked.

"No, I don't wear things with words on them," said Regulus. "I'm a wizard, not a billboard."

Sirius rolled his eyes.

"How was America, Reg?" he said.

"Mostly fine, but with the employees…" Regulus sighed. "When I go to a restaurant, either here or in Chicago, the manager tells them the owner, the CEO, Big Cheese, whatever you want to call me is coming by, and whenever they see me they act like I'm a bomb that's going to go off. I hate how everyone feels like they have to walk on eggshells around me whenever I visit the restaurants."

"Maybe they feel like they have to or they'll lose their jobs," Harry pointed out.

"I suppose so, but I understand how they feel," said Regulus. "My first year in America, I bussed tables for a living. I taught myself how to make pizza when I wasn't working, and I shared a tiny little apartment that reeked of rat urine with a crazy roommate who stayed up all night talking to the plants. I've been in their shoes. But they just don't seem to get that."

"That's just what happens when you're the Boss Man, though," said Sirius with an apologetic sort of smile.

"Yeah, maybe." Regulus shrugged. "But I don't want to be the kind of Boss Man who can only talk about his work. What's going on with you guys?"

"Gwen arranged a camping trip for Sirius and Harry, and Barbara and I decided they should do it without their wands," Hermione told him.

Regulus grinned.

"They think we can't do it," said Sirius. "But how hard can it be?"

"Doing _anything_ the No-Maj way can be difficult, if you're not used to it," Regulus told him. "Take it from me, I lived among them for a decade. But like us, they have all kinds of ways of making life easier. When they go camping, they have to forsake it, too, because there are no outlets in the wild. You could say the No-Maj population is as reliant on technology as wizards are on their wands."

"We won't be far from home," said Sirius. "Yorkshire or somewhere. Countryside."

"Not if you wanted to take it to the next level," Regulus said casually, cutting a meatball into slices and eating them one by one. He never chewed with his mouth open, and even when he swallowed, it was never a gulp.

"What's that supposed to mean?" said Sirius, only it was muffled because he had just stabbed a meatball with his fork and inserted it whole into his mouth.

"In Britain, the environment is all kind of the same," Regulus explained. "Now, if you were to visit America, and camp there, it's a whole different ball field. I had a friend who camped in Arizona, for example. He got ambushed by a rattlesnake while he was relieving himself in the bushes."

"Oh, he did not," said Sirius. "Besides, what makes you think we would take a plane ride that long just to take a camping retreat?"

"Well…" Regulus smiled serenely and wound his spaghetti around his fork. "Care to make it interesting?"

"Oh, a bet, huh?" Sirius leaned across the table. "What stakes do you propose?"

"I know," said Harry. "If Sirius and I can go the whole trip without using magic, airplane rides included, Regulus has to let us eat free at Reggie's Pizza Empire for a week."

"Fair enough." Regulus shrugged. "But Sirius, if you and Harry lose the bet, you have to go to a dog groomer in your Animagus form and get groomed."

Barbara snorted with laughter. Sirius looked indignant, but at the same time Harry knew it was the sort of thing he might think of as a joke. Besides, who said they would lose the bet? Plenty of Muggles camped without magic, so why couldn't Harry and Sirius do it? And riding on an airplane probably wouldn't be any different than a broomstick…right?

"Fine," said Sirius, shaking hands with Regulus. "We'll do it."

"Very well," Regulus replied. "Now, since this was my idea, I'd be glad to pay for your airfare—"

"Don't be silly, Reg, I can afford it," said Sirius, flipping his hand. "Besides, you ride airplanes all the time, don't you? How hard can it be?"

"I would advise you to stop saying that," said Regulus quietly, but Sirius wouldn't listen.

…


	16. The Airline Adventure

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Come on, guys, REALLY?! Do you actually think I'd let Sirius and Harry go on a camping trip wandless? Or ANYWHERE wandless? Remember what happened to James? On the astronomically small chance that they run into Death Eaters in 1992 in the American Southwest, of course they can use their wands. What I mean is, they can't use them to start a fire or pitch a tent or fish or all the other things you need to do when you camp. Stuff like THAT. I'm sure Regulus wouldn't count it as breaking the bet if Sirius needed to save Harry's life, or his own. When I say they go camping without their wands, I don't mean they're literally wandless. I mean Sirius can't use his wand for a stupid tiny thing any grown-ass man should already know how to do on his own, like light a match, so please enjoy this airline chapter.**

 **P.S. I have decided to remove the Birthing Class chapters from the story. I won't go so far as to say they don't add anything to the story, because I think they add a lot. However, I do agree with some of my readers that they rather IMPEDE the story. I allowed myself to get a bit sidetracked. I know there are people who liked those chapters, though, and I liked them, so they are now in a separate short story called "The Birthing Class."**

…

Sirius and Harry decided to leave on Tuesday, the very next afternoon, on a direct flight from London to Arizona. The direct flight was harder to find on such short notice, and Barbara had to spend some time on the phone with a travel agent. But finally, they had everything set up. It didn't take Harry and Sirius long to pack the previous night, because they wanted to travel light or, as Barbara put it, "you're guys."

"What do you mean?" said Sirius.

"Well, my mum taught me how a _woman_ should pack a suitcase, and for once I agreed with her," Barbara explained. "First you pack a duffel bag for all your toiletries, like makeup and hair products and stuff. Put more fragile things, like sunglasses and your wallet, in your purse, with jewelry in a little plastic bag. Then you put your shoes in your carry-on with all your miscellaneous stuff, then you get out the big suitcase—dresses, shirts, pants all in separate clean trash bags, as well as a collapsible hamper so you know which clothes you've worn. You can put your bras and panties either together or separate if you wish…"

Harry wished she hadn't mentioned that part, and felt his face getting hot. That was just one more thing about girls he wasn't sure of—what they wore _under_ all their clothes—and he didn't even know if he wanted to know. This was probably the only time he had ever seen Barbara be organized. But then, she wouldn't want a pretty dress colliding with a high-heeled shoe, or even worse, a bottle of conditioner.

"That's the way Moony used to do it," said Sirius. "Minus the bras and panties, of course."

They both laughed, but Harry didn't. Barbara's way wouldn't be his way. He pulled a small duffel bag out of the closet and threw in one change of clothes and underwear, his toothbrush and his pajamas. He didn't have to pack his gym shoes, because he would wear them on his feet.

…

Sirius and Harry's flight to Arizona was at three in the afternoon, and it would take them about twenty minutes to get to the airport. Regulus was going to drive them to the airport. Gwen turned up before Regulus did, though, and without being invited, which she had taken to doing every so often.

"Hi, Mum," said Barbara exasperatedly. "What are you doing here?"

"I just wanted to say farewell," she replied, but there was a glint in her eye.

"We're not going to be gone for a month, Gwendolyn," Sirius told her. "Just a couple of nights."

"It will simply seem like forever, though," said Gwen forlornly.

Gwen was just beginning to grill Harry on whether he'd packed properly for the trip when, thank God, Regulus arrived. Harry had never been so glad to see his godfather's younger brother in his life.

"Regulus!" he said in relief. "C'mon, drive us to the airport!"

"Well, someone's excited for camping," said Regulus. "Now I suppose you all have your things packed?"

"Yes, we're ready," said Sirius.

"Good!" Gwen said loudly, putting her arm around Barbara's shoulders. "Because now I'm going to announce my favorite part of the trip…Barbara is coming to stay with me and Robert for the whole time you're gone!"

"What?!" Barbara cried.

"Yep!" Gwen beamed. "We'll have a nice mother-daughter bonding time, you'll see…I can't possibly let you stay in this flat all by yourself…Maybe we can do Kegels together!"

Barbara groaned, but there was nothing to be done for it. Regulus beckoned for Sirius and Harry to follow him; Sirius gave Barbara a hug and kiss goodbye. As they grabbed their luggage and walked out into the hallway, Sirius turned to Harry and grinned a little sheepishly.

"I guess we should've known," he said. "Gwen arranged the camping trip because she wanted us out of the way."

"Well, I'm glad she did," Harry told him brightly, finding it a bit difficult to feel sorry for Barbara right now. "I'm excited for this."

"Me, too," said Sirius genuinely.

As they walked along, Harry holding one duffel bag, Sirius borrowing Regulus's slightly larger roller bag, Harry couldn't help but wonder about the packing thing. Not if he had done it right, but more like how it would have been if he had taken family vacations before. The Dursleys never took him anywhere if they could help it, of course. Aunt Petunia's packing strategy was surely more neurotic even than Gwen's, but what about her sister's? If they had been going on a vacation, would Lily have packed Harry's clothes for him? Would she have a little checklist to make sure she didn't forget anything? Harry just didn't know. So he asked Sirius.

"Whenever Lily and James traveled, James had a small suitcase, but Lily stuffed everything in her purse," Sirius explained. "Lily's purse was kind of like my pockets. It can fit much more than it looks like it can. Everyone thought James's suitcase was like that, too, but it was really just an ordinary suitcase. He just traveled light."

Harry was glad his father traveled light, too, and he knew Aunt Petunia wouldn't dream of just throwing everything in one bag, enchanted or no.

…

By taking this afternoon flight, Harry and Sirius would be in Arizona around the evening. It would be only a few hours later, but it would seem like more, because they were going to change so many time zones. (Harry was confused because they were actually going back several time zones, yet it would be a few hours _later_ when they landed.) Their plan was to crash in a hotel the first night, and start their camping first thing the next morning after they'd slept off their jet lag. They would camp out overnight, and catch another flight home on the third day.

"Now remember, Sirius," Regulus said calmly as he expertly navigated the streets of London. Harry knew they were nearing the airport, because he could see the jets. Their luggage was stowed in the back, since Sirius wasn't allowed to shrink it or put it in his enchanted pockets. "You can back out of the bet at any time. I can drop the stakes. Nobody will judge you for it."

"As if," said Sirius, shooting his brother a glare. "You think I'm going to turn into a chicken?"

"No, Regulus, he's not," said Harry, proud of his godfather.

Regulus sighed in exasperation and loosened his tie around his neck. Harry didn't understand how adult men, like Regulus and even Uncle Vernon, wore ties in the summer. It felt like a sweaty noose around his neck. When the weather got warm at Hogwarts, he always took his off, like Ron. He still didn't even know how to tie a tie, because he had Sirius tie it for him once before school started and every morning he just slipped it over his head like it was a necklace. Maybe he'd learn this summer. Next time he had to wear a tie, he resolved, he'd ask Sirius to teach him.

It wasn't long before they reached the airport. Harry had never been to an airport before, and neither had Sirius. Regulus, who had done a lot of business traveling, seemed unimpressed, but Sirius and Harry wanted to check everything out. There was a McDonald's in the airport, so Regulus bought them a meal there. He followed them around in half-amusement as they wanted to look at everything.

"What's _that?"_ said Sirius, pointing.

"That's the X-ray machine," said Regulus dryly. "They use it to make sure you aren't carrying anything dangerous."

"Could they see our wands in our pockets?" Harry asked anxiously. What if they broke the Statute of Secrecy somehow?

"No," said Regulus. "They detect metal, not wood."

"What about clothes?" Sirius continued. "X-rays can't see through your _clothes_ , can they?"

"Of course not," said Regulus. "Honestly, Sirius, I don't know where you get this stuff."

Sirius and Harry had paid extra to get prechecked, so they didn't have to go through security. Along with Regulus, they walked over to the terminal to wait for their flight. Regulus was one of those people who always liked to be early, so they had about thirty minutes before their flight started. There wasn't any room to sit, though. The other passengers were crowding the seats. Many teenagers surrounded them, probably because they were going off to college. It was late July, after all, so college season was starting.

They went to the stores around the airport and explored a little. Sirius bought a keychain, a candy bar and, to the exasperation of Regulus, a Muggle women's magazine. Harry was secretly just a little curious to see what was inside it, because maybe it would explain why girls acted so weird sometimes (also, he was a bit intrigued by some of the article titles on the cover). Sirius just seemed to think of it as a joke. Harry bought one gigantic bottle of soda and two candy bars. Then they had to go back to the gate.

"This is boring," said Sirius, already biting into his candy. "There's nothing to do here."

"Yes, there is." Regulus lowered his voice to a whisper. "I've got to put the spell on your wands so I can detect it if you do magic."

Regulus pulled his brother and Harry into the nearest men's bathroom, then placed a Muggle-Repelling Charm on the door. Harry tried not to breathe in the smell of an airport bathroom. Public bathrooms in general were bad enough, but "airport bathroom" was just about one step ahead of "gas station bathroom."

"Isn't that the Anarchy symbol?" said Harry, pointing at some graffiti.

"Never mind that, Harry, we don't have much time," said Regulus. He took Harry's wand, then Sirius's, and put a spell on each of them—one that wouldn't stop wand usage, but something that would track them.

"What if there's an emergency?" Harry asked him. "Like what if I'm torn apart by a wild animal and Sirius has to heal me?"

"I don't think that's likely, Harry, but if you need to use magic to save your lives, that doesn't count."

"What if I step in animal poop?" Sirius continued. "James ironically stepped in deer poop when we went camping, but he had _Scourgify_ …"

"If it's not life-threatening, you're on your own," said Regulus, rather wickedly. "Now, as long as we're in the bathroom, you two should use the facilities before the plane departs."

"Who are you, Mum?" said Sirius. "I don't even have to go."

"Me neither," said Harry.

"You will eventually," Regulus warned them. "It's an eleven-hour flight."

"Nonsense," Sirius said stubbornly. "I have a bladder of steel."

"Okay, sure, _what_ -ever, Sirius." Regulus rolled his eyes and let them out of the men's room, taking the Muggle-Repelling Charm off the door as they left. Harry was just going to try and find a place to sit when their flight was announced.

"Flight 517, London to Tucson, now boarding," a female's voice was saying over the intercom.

"Come on!" said Regulus, prodding them in the backs. They headed all the way to the gate, where Regulus dropped them off.

"Bye, Reg," said Sirius.

"We're looking forward to all that free pizza when we get home," Harry added, grinning.

"Don't count your chickens before they hatch," Regulus said simply.

Harry and Sirius waved, and then it was time to board the plane. Neither of them had ever been on a plane before, of course, so they weren't sure what to think. And this was going to be a long journey.

"How do we get on the plane, do you think?" Sirius whispered.

"I don't know," Harry whispered back. "But everybody's going through that door…"

When it was their turn, they dropped their tickets off at the counter, and were made to walk down what was basically a long, winding gray tunnel. And finally, when they reached the end, they realized they were boarding the plane. They got a glance of the pilot, who looked official and had golden wings pinned in his lapel. He smiled at Harry and saluted.

Finally they reached their seats. Harry sat by the window, and Sirius sat in the middle seat.

"Hello," said Sirius to the woman sitting in the aisle seat. "I'm Sirius."

"I'm Harry," added Harry.

The woman glared at them. She had huge, flyaway, puffy gray hair that looked permanently tangled. Harry would have put her age at around sixty-five.

"My name is Hazel Willis," she said curtly. "But you may call me Mrs. Willis."

"You got it, Mrs. Willis." Sirius nodded. "Now…how do we do this seat belt thing?"

"Are you kidding me?"

Sirius, Harry and Mrs. Willis looked up. There was the stewardess standing above them. She had a resting bitch face and a blonde side ponytail. She was probably in her twenties. Her nametag said "Jennifer."

"Excuse me?" said Sirius politely.

"Do you honestly not know how to use the seat belt?" she snapped.

"This is my first flight, and Harry's, too," Sirius explained. "We don't know anything about flying."

Mrs. Willis raised her eyebrows. Jennifer sighed exasperatedly and buckled both Sirius and Harry in. Then she went to turn on the safety video, which was actually a little frightening. Mrs. Willis wasn't even paying attention, but Harry and Sirius were. The video talked about how if the plane suddenly ran out of oxygen, masks would drop from the ceiling, and if you landed in the water, slides would come out of the plane, and your seat doubled as a flotation device. In the video, the people evacuating the plane looked calm, but Harry just knew that if the plane did land in the water and they needed to evacuate, it would be crowded and there would be a lot of panicking and screaming, possibly because nobody had paid attention to the video.

"I thought the point of the airplane is that it stays in the air," Sirius whispered to Harry.

Jennifer was now making her final rounds. She was telling the passengers to put their tray tables up, stow their luggage in the overhead compartments, etc. Harry didn't think she was very nice. But he was excited for takeoff. So when Jennifer announced that it was time to get in the air, he and Sirius were both glad to hear it.

The takeoff was fun, but being airborne wasn't quite like riding the flying motorcycle or a broom, mostly because once the plane was in the air, you couldn't feel it moving, which Harry thought was weird. He took a big gulp of his soda and looked out the window. Everything was getting smaller and smaller. They were leaving London behind and on their way to Arizona.

…

Once the plane leveled off, Jennifer walked down the aisle with a beverage cart, which reminded Harry of the witch on the Hogwarts Express who gave out candy. Harry didn't think Jennifer was giving out candy, though.

"Refreshments!" she called out in her harsh voice.

"Do you have grape juice?" Sirius asked.

"Grape soda," said Jennifer.

"I'll have four cans of it, please," Sirius told her. Jennifer's lips tightened like she thought he was trying to be funny, but she handed over the sodas anyway. Harry knew Sirius meant it, though. To help him kick his drinking habit, he would drink grape juice instead, and sometimes it took a lot of it. Four cans of grape soda were roughly the same amount of soda Harry had in his huge bottle.

"What about food?" Harry asked.

"Food isn't to be served for a few hours, but you can have some peanuts to tide you over," Jennifer said carelessly, tossing two packs of peanuts at them. Sirius caught them, and kept one, giving the other to Harry, who noticed Mrs. Willis didn't grab anything.

Sirius noticed how you could buy alcohol off the refreshments cart, and Harry was proud of him for acting like he couldn't. But he started drinking his grape soda right away and made it through half a can before Harry suggested they look at the magazine. Their bags were stowed below, but they'd brought the magazine along with them.

"Sure," said Sirius. "I've got a few brain cells to spare."

The magazine had three sections: Beauty and Style, Relationships, and Fun 'n' Games. Harry wondered how the magazine could possibly be so thick with only three sections until he saw that at least three-fourths of the pages were advertisements. They had to turn through a bunch of pages until they finally got to Beauty and Style, which they skipped over because they thought it might be boring. But then…

"Here's Relationships," said Harry. "Let's read it."

"Should be interesting," Sirius agreed, and he read the cover page out loud. "'Decoding men shouldn't have to be so hard! Welcome to the Relationships section and figure out what your guy is thinking!'"

"Nothing, probably," Harry added, and they laughed. The magazine didn't say that, but it was funny.

"But 'decoding' is a strange word to use," said Sirius. "I mean, what's to decode? Guys aren't that complicated."

"It's girls who are complicated," said Harry. "That's why we're reading this magazine."

Sirius nodded. He turned the page, and…Harry's breath caught in his throat.

"12 Crazy Positions to Make Sure You Reach Your Climax Each Time," Sirius read. "Wow…I sure wasn't expecting _that_."

The magazine was very forward about it, and there weren't just written descriptions, either. Harry must have gone into shock at the sight, because the next thing he knew, Sirius was shaking his shoulder.

"What?" said Harry dazedly.

"I turned the page, kid," Sirius told him. "Here's something you might like more—13 Ways to Play Hard-to-Get."

"Okay," said Harry. "'Number One: Know when to answer the phone. Don't answer on the first ring, because you'll look too eager. Don't answer on the third, because your guy will think you don't care. Two rings are about right.'"

"Do you _ever_ count the rings when you call Hermione?" said Sirius.

"No," said Harry. In fact, it sounded incredibly stupid to him. They read on.

"'Number Two: Invite your friends to parties, but forget to invite him,'" Sirius read. "'Have one of your girls bring him along as a plus-one.'"

"'Number Three,'" said Harry. "'Never kiss on the first date, even if you both want to. Make him wait for it.'"

They read all thirteen ways, including that you should never send your guy two letters in a row and that you should call out hot girls walking past _before_ he does, so it doesn't look like you're jealous. They went on to read other articles, too. The magazine's constant attempts to understand men were laughable and sometimes a little pathetic, yet fascinating. Harry and Sirius read the articles in the Relationships section with complete scrutiny, but the more they read, the more it didn't make sense. Finally, Sirius set the magazine down and slapped his hand on the tray, spilling a little of his grape soda (he was almost done with his second can by now, and he had ordered a fifth).

"That's it," he said. "If Phoebe ever asks me for advice about boys, I'm only going to tell her two things."

"Really? What?"

"Don't play games, and be yourself," Sirius replied. "Because he doesn't really want anything else."

"I never would have expected this," Harry agreed.

"Hey, here's one that should be more fun," said Sirius, pointing at the next article. "'Your Bedroom Style According to Your Zodiac.'"

"Yours first," said Harry.

"Scorpio, October 23-November 22," said Sirius. "'Some may call you crazy in the bedroom, but they're lucky to have you, for a hunger like yours is seldom seen.'"

Harry and Sirius burst into laughter. Then they found Harry's.

"Leo, July 23-August 22," said Harry. "'You are fierce, yet loving. Everything about the act excites you and you're always looking for something new to try.'"

They laughed even harder. Mrs. Willis was glaring at them.

"For your information, some of us find those magazines very enlightening," she snapped.

"Which bit?" said Sirius, gasping for breath.

"Maybe '12 Signs You're About to Get Dumped,'" Harry offered, making them both break down into hysterics again.

"Okay, okay," said Sirius, wiping his eyes. "What's next?"

"It's a quiz," Harry told him. "Oh, boy."

"The kind of quiz you get in school?" asked Sirius, looking a little confused.

"No, this one's for you, Sirius," said Harry. "'Are You a Flirt?'"

"Question One," read Sirius. "When you buy a pair of jeans, is it to A) Keep you warm, B) Show off your curves, or C) Flaunt your butt?"

More gales of laughter. Harry marked "A" for himself and "C" for Sirius.

"Question Two," said Harry. "Your relationship style is A) Love from afar, B) Slow and steady wins the race, or C) Animal magnetism?"

They laughed so hard they thought their lungs would burst.

"B for Harry, C for me," said Sirius.

"Question Three," said Harry. "If your crush looks at you in class, you A) Keep working diligently, B) Smile flirtatiously, or C) Blow your cutie a kiss?"

"B," said Harry, because he knew he probably wouldn't be working diligently. Sirius put that down, plus "C" for himself.

"Question Four," Harry continued. "At your crush's baseball game, you A) Cheer him on, B) High-five him after the game or C) Hold up a sign saying 'I'll Go To Home Base With You!"

That time it was far too much to take. They howled with laughter until Mrs. Willis prodded Sirius in the shoulder.

"Do you mind?!" she screeched.

"Sorry," said Harry, even though he didn't mean it.

"All that laughing made me hungry, anyway," said Sirius. "Want to try the peanuts?"

"You try them first," Harry said. They didn't look too appetizing.

Sirius popped one of the peanuts into his mouth, but spit it out immediately.

"Ugh! These peanuts are awful! Yuck!" he grouched, but Harry had noticed something else, something bad. The peanut had landed right in Mrs. Willis's crazy hair, and it was stuck there.

"STEWARDESS!" Mrs. Willis squawked, waving her arm all around. "This man threw a peanut at my HEAD!"

"Why…?" Jennifer tapped her foot and scowled, but Sirius didn't say anything, so Mrs. Willis grabbed the bag of peanuts and threw it at him, scattering airline peanuts everywhere.

…

"DINNER!" Jennifer called out, pushing a cart of food (or, at least, something resembling food) down the aisle. "One small, tasteless meal will be served shortly!"

Sirius and Harry had definitely been getting hungry, so Sirius ordered meatloaf and Harry ordered lasagna. They also ordered more drinks. Sirius was down to two cans of grape juice and Harry had about half his soda left, so Sirius got more grape soda and Harry got some water. It turns out he needed it, too, because the meals were rock-hard and they had to gulp their drinks to wash the food down.

"Is this really meatloaf?" said Sirius, trying to stab it with his fork. "I'm pretty sure it could break a toe if dropped."

"And my lasagna tastes like dead birds," Harry added.

"Oh well…do you want to look through the Fun 'n' Games section of the magazine?" Sirius offered. Mrs. Willis groaned (she still couldn't get the peanut out of her hair) but they ignored it.

"Yeah," said Harry, flipping past some more pages in the Relationships section. "Here you go…party games…Truth or Dare. You played that one, Sirius, didn't you?"

"All the time," Sirius said. "Hmm…'This is an excellent time to be a good wingwoman. Simply dare your friend to kiss her crush during the game'…Well, that explains a lot, I guess."

"What do you mean?"

"When we played coed Truth or Dare, girls were always daring each other to kiss me," Sirius explained.

"What about this one?" Harry asked, pointing. "Never Have I Ever?"

"Oh yes, a drinking game," Sirius said with a grin. "We could play it now, if you like. See, they have a list of suggestion questions."

"But we don't have alcohol."

"Well, you still have some of your soda left, and I've got a lot of grape soda," said Sirius. "We won't get drunk, but the game should be just as fun anyway."

"Okay, let's get started…" Harry looked at the list. "Never have I ever…gotten so drunk I forgot my own name."

Sirius took a sip of his grape soda.

"Been arrested."

Another sip from Sirius. Mrs. Willis looked like she wasn't surprised.

"Sang karaoke."

Sirius and Harry both took sips; they remembered quite clearly their stunning rendition of "The Lion Sleeps Tonight" in a karaoke bar last summer. It had been only one of the things on their seeing-London itinerary.

"Ridden an animal."

Sirius took a sip, then reminded Harry to also, because he used to take rides on Padfoot when he was younger, and surely that counted.

"Bet on something."

"Traveled by plane."

"Taken pictures of myself in my underwear."

"Skinny-dipped."

Sirius seemed to take a sip on at least three-quarters of the questions the magazine offered, although Harry got some Sirius didn't, such as "Kissed my best friend," "Broken someone's jaw," and "Participated in a school play." (Harry got a role as a tree, but he was still technically in the play.) As the game went on, amidst many barrels of laughter, stories, and irritated noises from Mrs. Willis, Sirius drank more than Harry did, but eventually they both finished all their drinks. Harry looked out the window.

"Hey, look," said Harry, pointing. "We're passing over the ocean."

It was true. All they could see underneath them were the beautiful blue waves crashing. Sirius yawned.

"Bout time for a nap, then, don't you think?" he said.

"Sure."

Sirius closed his eyes and Harry leaned his head on Sirius's shoulder as he closed his eyes, too.

…

The last four hours of the flight weren't as fun as the first seven. Harry woke up a couple hours later, his neck aching. No surprise, as he had been leaning against the window. Groggily, he looked out of it; he could see that they were over land again. He glanced at Sirius, who was perusing the magazine again, tongue between his teeth, like Hermione when she studied for a test. Harry glanced at Sirius's reading material but then looked away quickly.

"7 Ways to Bring the Kama Sutra to Life?!" Harry said incredulously. Of course, he had no idea what the Kama Sutra was, but he had seen enough. "Put that away!"

"I thought you were asleep," Sirius said defensively, shutting the magazine. "Besides, I've got to entertain my mind _somehow_."

"What do you mean?"

"Let's just say Reg was right," said Sirius uncomfortably. "I've got to pee. Bad."

"Well, you can't go now," Harry told him, pointing upwards. "The seatbelt sign is on."

"I know, why do you think I didn't go before?" said Sirius. "We ran into a whole bunch of turbulence right before you woke up."

Just like that, the light turned off. There was an announcement that they were free to roam about the cabin again. Sirius started to unbuckle his seat belt, but Harry had a vision of a little trapdoor opening in the bottom of the plane, the contents of a toilet spilling out everywhere below.

"Hang on, Sirius," he said. "I don't think you're supposed to go unless the plane is over the ocean."

"Are you sure about that?" said Sirius, giving him a scrutinizing look.

"Pretty much," said Harry. "I mean, when you go camping, you pee in a lake, not on someone's head, right?"

"Yeah, but—"

"He's right," Mrs. Willis interrupted, without even moving a muscle. She was reclining with a sleep mask over her eyes. "You can't use the bathroom on an airplane unless you're flying over the ocean. Since we've already crossed the Atlantic, you'll have to wait until we land."

"When's that?" said Sirius anxiously; he and Harry believed Mrs. Willis, because she was an experienced traveler.

"At least four hours," she said simply.

"Can't we ask Jennifer to make an exception?" Sirius begged.

"No, I tried that once on this very airline," Mrs. Willis told him. "Turns out passengers ask them that question all the time, and they got so angry they made me wait an extra hour, and I ended up soiling my favorite underwear."

"That was way more than I needed to know, Mrs. Willis," said Sirius, but she didn't respond this time.

"Just think of something else, Sirius," said Harry.

"But I can't," said Sirius. Things seemed to be getting worse now that he realized he was going to have to wait four hours to use the bathroom. "All I can think of is that grape soda! And it was even worse when we were going over the water with all that turbulence. The ocean waves kept splashing, and then the pilot was telling us about North America's Great Lakes and Niagara Falls and Minnesota, the land of 10,000 lakes, and—"

"Stop it, Sirius, now _I_ have to go!" Indeed; now that Sirius mentioned it, that gigantic bottle of soda was going through Harry like a rocket.

"Sorry 'bout that, boys," said Mrs. Willis.

She sure didn't look sorry, but Sirius definitely looked worried. Either way, landing couldn't come soon enough.

 **TO BE CONTINUED…**


	17. Tucson, Arizona

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay, my message of this chapter is…** _ **the beliefs and opinions of the characters in a story do NOT necessarily reflect those of the author.**_ **In fact, they usually don't. My first plane ride was when I was eight months old; I'm an experienced traveler like Mrs. Willis. I know perfectly well the bathroom rules of the airplane. But Sirius and Harry don't. They've also been annoying Mrs. Willis the whole ride through, and this is her way of getting back at them. Would this have been MY way of getting back at them? No. In fact, I would've been laughing along with them and asking if I could take the quiz, too, and a peanut in the hair is hilarious to me, even if it's my hair. So please keep this in mind, that just because a certain character thinks or does something doesn't mean I agree with them or what they did. I wrote a different story where Sirius's father brings a goat home to sacrifice it in a Dark ritual; does anyone think I sacrifice goats? (Hint: No.) Now, please enjoy the following chapter.**

 **GUEST: I'm thinking you might have posted on the wrong story or something. It's not like the Weasleys are the centerpiece of this story or anything, but I certainly didn't write them out of it, and even though I'll admit I'm not really a fan of the Weasleys, this isn't a Weasley-bashing fic. It's not an anyone-bashing fic, except for a bit of Dumblebashing in this story's predecessor, but that's a whole different beast.**

…

Two hours later and Harry felt like he was dying. The sound seemed magnified every time someone took a sip of soda or Mrs. Willis gurgled in her sleep. Even worse, the couple on the opposite side of the aisle was making out with each other passionately, and the sounds they were making reminded Harry of a dog slurping water out of its bowl. He could almost see the droplets of water landing all over the floor.

"Harry, I can't take it anymore," Sirius whispered hoarsely. "Still got that empty soda bottle?"

"I want to use it first," said Harry quickly, picking the bottle up off the floor.

"Are you crazy? It's not big enough for _two_ people."

"Well, then I should be able to use it, because it's my bottle!"

"But it was my idea!"

"Oh, c'mon, anybody could have thought of that!"

" _You_ didn't—and besides, I paid for it!"

"Sirius, I'm _dying!"_ Harry cried desperately. Sirius sighed and let go of the bottle.

"Fine," he grouched. "But you owe me big."

Harry took the bottle from Sirius, but before he had even decided how to position it properly so that he wouldn't miss and end up peeing all over the floor instead, he heard Mrs. Willis clear her throat.

"Excuse me," she told him furiously, "but there's a lady present."

Harry felt his cheeks turn red and slammed the bottle up on the tray table. He hadn't even noticed she was awake, much less _watching_ him.

"What you were about to do is obscene," she added.

"Will you be quiet?" Sirius snapped at her. "Harry, if you're not going to use that bottle, just give it to me!"

"I don't think so," Mrs. Willis snarled. "If _either_ of you two heathens use that bottle as a toilet in front of me, I swear I'll have you hauled off this plane so fast you'd think you were in a time warp!"

"They can _do_ that?" said Sirius, his eyes wide. "In midair?"

"Of course," she said coldly. "If you're being disruptive, they throw you out a little door in the cockpit. And as much as I'd like to send you two hurtling through the ionosphere, which would finally give me some peace and quiet, I'd much rather see you suffer."

They were suffering, all right. Harry looked over at Jennifer, who was telling one of the passengers off for something or another, and he decided right then that he didn't think she was at all above ejecting someone out of the plane if they annoyed her enough. All the same, he knew he would rather wet his pants than die if given the choice, and Sirius seemed to be thinking along the same lines. Mrs. Willis grinned and settled back into sleep.

"Why'd you have to wake her up, Harry?" Sirius whispered bitterly. "You could've given that bottle to her and claimed it was lemonade."

…

"Prepare for landing," Jennifer called out. "Please place your trays in the upright position and if you are out of your seat, return to it immediately and buckle up. We may experience some turbulence upon the landing…big turbulence."

Turbulence wasn't good to begin with, but it was even worse if you were having an emergency. It seemed like the whole plane was shaking as they headed further downwards. Sirius and Harry were holding onto each other tightly as the airplane landed in Tucson, Arizona, bumping a couple of times as it did so.

"Okay, we've landed," said Sirius, unbuckling and standing up.

"Where are you going, exactly?" Mrs. Willis asked sardonically, pointing. There was a whole crowd of people ahead of them waiting to get off. Some were pushing and shoving; others were trying to get their bags out of the overhead compartments. It wasn't any easier to hold it sitting down than it was standing up, so Harry stood up too, internally cursing Mrs. Willis, since if it weren't for her he could have just peed in the bottle. But finally, the crowd thinned. Sirius put one hand on Harry's shoulder so he wouldn't lose him, but his grip was uncomfortably tight.

"Your bathroom policy stinks!" Sirius told the pilot as they were leaving the plane.

"What do you mean?" asked the pilot, bewildered.

"We had to hold it for four hours just because you're not allowed to go to the bathroom unless you're over the ocean!"

"Of _course_ you can use the bathroom when you're flying over land, fool," said Jennifer. "It's not like it comes out of the plane through a little trapdoor or anything."

Sirius looked like he wanted to murder Mrs. Willis, but she was long gone.

"She tricked us, Sirius!" Harry cried as they left the plane.

"I know!" Sirius howled, grabbing Harry's hand and running so fast Harry was almost lifted off his feet. Once they were in the airport again, Sirius started searching for the bathroom and a security guard at the same time. It seemed that no matter how hard they tried, they could not find a security guard. If you did something embarrassing in public, like picked your nose, or you didn't want anyone to bother you, they were everywhere, but if you needed one, it was like they all suddenly went on strike or something.

Finally Harry spotted one walking by and yelled, "Hey!"

"What?" she said, turning.

"Please tell us where the restroom is," Sirius pleaded, and it took just one glance at their faces for her to see it was a life-or-death situation. She told them it was in the opposite direction, so Sirius had to run _back_ , Harry clinging on for dear life. It must have looked like they were in danger of missing a plane. Finally, after some more frantic searching, they found the dirty Tucson restroom, even dirtier than the London one. Harry ran in with Sirius behind him.

It must have taken Harry a full minute and a half to relieve himself, but he was still done before Sirius was. He walked a few steps to the sink to wash his hands, but soon yelled in pain and pulled them back. The water was scalding hot. If he took a bath that hot, he'd be cooked alive.

"What is it?" asked Sirius, craning his neck to see what was going on. Harry had gone in first in order to snag the urinal closest to the door, so of course Sirius had to use the one all the way on the other side of the room.

"This water is too hot," Harry told him. "And there's no way to adjust the temperature."

Not only that, but the water flow stopped if you stopped pressing on the top of the faucet, so you could only scald one hand at a time, and it took twice as long.

"I think I've got some hand sanitizer," said Sirius. "Just give me a minute."

"And by the way, Sirius," Harry told him, "I don't think it's true that they can eject you out of a little door in the cockpit, either."

"I know." Sirius sighed. "We were idiots to believe her."

Once Sirius was done, too, he joined Harry at the sink and dug around in his jeans pockets for a few seconds. (Since he hadn't been able to enchant them, it didn't take very long.) He squirted some of the hand sanitizer into Harry's hands, causing Harry to cry out in pain for the second time in five minutes.

"I thought that paper cut healed," he said weakly.

"Hand sanitizer," said Sirius. "Introducing you to every miniscule open wound you didn't know you had."

Once the hand sanitizer was applied, they left the bathroom. Sirius put his hand on Harry's shoulder again and steered him through the crowd.

"Um, did Regulus say what we're supposed to do next?" Harry asked.

"You know, I can't say he did," said Sirius. "And come to think of it, I don't even know where we are, do you?"

"No," said Harry nervously at the busy airport. "Maybe we should just find another security guard."

Harry and Sirius kept walking, getting more lost all the time. Truth was, the airport in Tucson didn't look much different than the airport in Britain. They didn't stop until they saw a cart for disabled passengers drive by. Riding on it was one security guard and one man who looked like he was ninety.

"Out of the way!" the old man barked.

"We're lost," whined Harry, borrowing Dudley's tactic of pretending to cry. Finally, he could take advantage of looking younger than he was.

"Well, where's all your luggage, son?" asked the security guard.

"We left it on the plane, and we don't know where it is now," Sirius explained.

"Probably at baggage claim," the security guard answered, nodding his head. "Climb on and I'll take you there."

Riding on the cart was more fun than riding on the airplane. They had to drive awhile before they reached Baggage Claim.

"So where are ours?" asked Harry.

"I guess we just have to wait," Sirius told him.

When Harry had finally grabbed his duffel bag, and Sirius recovered Regulus's giant roller bag, they decided it was time to leave the airport. Since it was only about 6:30, they decided they would walk to a restaurant nearby, then hail a cab to a hotel. It didn't matter that neither of them could drive, because for most of the trip they would be camping, miles away from any roads or civilization.

Harry looked out the glass doors. The air conditioner was blowing, and people looked relieved somewhat as they walked in.

"How hot is it outside?" he asked a passing security guard. Now that they didn't really need one to find the bathroom or baggage claim, they were everywhere again.

"100 degrees," the man said calmly.

"What?!" said Harry in shock. How did these people not die of heatstroke? How was the land not on fire?

"Oh yeah…you sound like you're from Britain," said the security guard, laughing. "See, we use Fahrenheit here, so the temperature's a lot lower than it sounds."

"Oh, good!" said Sirius cheerfully. "So it's not boiling hot outside, then!"

But when they left the airport, they got a blast of heat.

"I thought you said it wouldn't be boiling hot," Harry moaned as they trudged along, both regretting their decision to find a restaurant on foot. Maybe, Harry figured, the water in the bathroom was so hot because the pipes were just heated that way by the sun, and there was nothing the airport could do about it.

"I've got no idea what temperature 100 is in Celsius," Sirius panted, pulling off his hoodie; Harry did the same. It didn't help, though, as their T-shirts still stuck to their backs with sweat and their hair hung in their faces. At least Sirius didn't start complaining again about what the humidity did to his hair, because at least in Arizona it seemed to be a dry heat. At this point Harry couldn't care less what his hair looked like, as he had pretty much given up, but he sure didn't like the way it felt—sort of like a sweaty fur hat.

There were a lot of Mexican restaurants, so that was where they went, mostly because they didn't want to walk in the heat anymore. The air conditioning felt great, and the restaurant smelled delicious. They washed their hands for real before they ate, and thankfully the sink had two handles, so you could adjust the temperature that way.

"Regulus, I'll get him, the little shit," said Sirius furiously. "I mean, he knew how hot it was going to be!"

"The little shit?" Harry said in disbelief. "I saw you hold Regulus in your arms and tell him how you loved him and were happy to have him back, and now you're calling him a little shit?"

Sirius smiled, despite the heat. "Obviously, you don't have a brother."

The restaurant was busy, so they had to wait to be seated. The A/C felt wonderful.

"What did you mean by that?" Harry asked. "You know I don't have a brother. All I had was Dudley, and soon I'll have Phoebe."

"Well, I don't know what it's like to have a sister—although we saw my cousins so much, they were almost so," Sirius replied. "But the thing about having a younger brother is, you can pick on him, but woe betide anyone else who even tries. As for the name-calling, that's just normal banter. It's kind of how you show your brother you love him."

…

After dinner they hailed a cab and asked for a recommendation to the best hotel nearby. As they looked out the windows, they noticed the city for the first time. It was mostly the mountains Harry noticed. He had always heard that line in the American song "purple mountain's majesty," and thought it was a little strange, but these mountains were majestic and purple both. Beautiful, even. They hung over the entire state like a centerpiece, always somewhere around, misty and mysterious.

It wasn't long before they reached the hotel. Harry wondered whether Sirius was going to be cheap (like usual) and choose a bad hotel, but they ended up picking it purely on the cabbie's recommendation.

They didn't have to get a bellboy because they only had two bags. Harry was willing to carry his duffel bag, but Sirius employed a trick he learned from watching the other travelers at the airport; he just placed the duffel bag on top of the roller bag and wheeled it along that way. What was annoying was that there was carpet in the hallways, so the roller bag's wheels didn't move smoothly.

"Shit!" Sirius shouted as the duffel bag swung the other way, throwing the huge roller bag off balance. It landed on the floor, latched open, and everything came spilling out. Harry bent down to help. Sirius's clothes were in there, of course, and the camping gear (including Richard's book), but he'd also crammed in a ridiculous amount of what could only be described as "beauty products." Not makeup, of course, but a little bit of just about everything else, especially hair-care products.

"We could've saved a lot more space if I'd just put my products in your bag," Sirius grouched, stuffing clothes haphazardly back into the suitcase.

"Or we could've saved even _more_ space if you hadn't brought them at all," Harry replied with a grin.

"Is it just me, or have you thought of, like, a million spells we could have used so far to make this whole journey easier?" Sirius snapped, finally managing to cram everything in again and slamming the suitcase shut. It popped open again and he and Harry both had to close it. Finally, Sirius set the suitcase up again and set to rolling it along, yanking it over a snag in the rug. Harry decided to carry his duffel bag.

"Well, besides your enchanted pockets, I'm sure there was a water spell that could've cooled us off," said Harry miserably. " _Aguamenti?"_

"Or _Agua Eructo_ ," Sirius added wistfully. "Just imagine…a hot day like this, and a huge jet of ice-cold water right in the face."

"Sounds wonderful."

As soon as they got in the room, Sirius kicked off his shoes and threw the suitcase down in one corner. The room was nice, Harry thought. It had a bed for Harry, a bed for Sirius, a TV, a writing desk, a nightstand with a lamp and a phone, a dresser, and a bathroom off the main room. There was a minibar with snacks in it, too, and a coffeemaker.

Sirius stripped his bed until it was down to the sheets and regular pillows. He took off his shirt and tossed it to land wherever it may lie, just like he had with his hoodie.

"Didn't you bring _anything?"_ he asked, as his dark-wash jeans and his belt with the Gryffindor lion buckle joined the rest of his clothes on the floor. He found a pair of pajama pants in the roller bag and pulled them on. When he was done with that, he found a brush in there, too, and ran it through his hair.

"I brought my toothbrush," said Harry. "And a change of clothes."

"What about tooth _paste_?" Sirius rolled his eyes. Harry noticed how when his hairbrush collided with a knot, instead of yanking, he would grab the ends of his hair and work it through. "What about your antiperspirant? What about a hairbrush?"

Harry realized he'd forgotten all three of those things. It was fine to share a tube of toothpaste, but he didn't particularly want to use somebody else's antiperspirant, much less a hairbrush with somebody else's hair stuck in it. He supposed it wouldn't be so bad to go without combing his hair for a few days, but in a place as hot as this, who could go for even a day without using antiperspirant?

"You go down to the hotel store right now, please, and buy yourself what you forgot," said Sirius, pulling out his wallet and handing some American Muggle money to Harry. "Get yourself a candy bar too while you're at it."

The hotel store was sort of a combination drugstore and gift shop. Harry got Old Spice, mostly because that was what Sirius wore, and he bought a hairbrush too. Then he bought a king-size Hershey bar for himself and another one for Sirius, plus a Coke and a key chain with his name on it and a sculpture of a funny-looking plant, which read "Welcome to Tucson."

"Like it?" said the cashier behind the counter. Her hair was frizzy, a little like Hermione's, but it was dirty-blonde instead of brown. According to her nametag, her name was Tiffany. "Where you from?"

"London," said Harry simply.

"Ooh, nice." Tiffany snapped her gum. "What d'you think of America?"

"I don't know," Harry told her. "I haven't seen much of it yet. But it's really hot."

"No, that's just Arizona, kid," she said with a grin. "That's a cactus, by the way…Getting gifts for your friends?"

Harry glanced around. He would probably give the "Welcome to Tucson" trinket to Ron, but he didn't know what he would give to Hermione. Well, he reminded himself, the cashier was female, so why not ask her?

"I was wondering what I could buy for my girlfriend," he said. "I mean, what I _should_ buy."

"Aw, how sweet of you!" Tiffany beamed, making Harry go red; he had been hoping she wouldn't embarrass him, but no luck. "What a nice boy you are, buying a gift for your little girlfriend…Let's see what we have."

They finally decided on a necklace with Kokopelli for the pendant and a book about Native American cultures in the Southwest. Tiffany explained that Kokopelli was a god who represented the spirit of music and chased away winter with his flute-playing. Harry figured Hermione would find that interesting. Maybe Kokopelli would be mentioned in the book, too. When Harry had finally found all the trinkets and souvenirs he wanted, Tiffany rung them up and put them all in a bag for him.

"Tell Hermione I said hello," she told Harry, who didn't say anything, just felt himself blushing again, and he heard her laugh good-naturedly as he ran for the elevator.

When Harry got upstairs, Sirius was already in bed and watching TV in the dark. Harry took out everything he bought and set it on the dresser, then held up Hermione's necklace, admiring the way the light made the sterling silver shine, hoping she would think of him every time she wore it.

"I see you got more than just the brush and the Old Spice," Sirius commented. "I'm sure the kids at school will just love that necklace on you."

But his eyes gleamed just like Tiffany's had, and then Harry knew he knew who it was really for.

After he put everything back in the shopping bag, Harry dug around in his duffel bag for his green pajamas, which were made of satin and his favorite, also the same color as his eyes, of course. He couldn't find his toothbrush and he was too tired to look for it tonight, so he hoped he'd find it in the morning. He found his pajamas eventually and slipped them on, then climbed into bed, stripping it down the way Sirius had. He found the sheets to be too hot, so he sat on top of them instead.

They watched TV for a bit, every so often commenting on whatever was on. "Love and Lust" wasn't on, but it wasn't really the same without Hermione, anyway. Finally, when a boring talk show started at one in the morning, Sirius turned off the TV and the bedside lamp, and they lay down in the dark. Harry settled down on one pillow and hugged the other. It was dark, but not the kind of dark where you couldn't see anything.

"Do you miss Barbara?" he asked, breaking the silence.

"Why? Do _you?"_

"Not particularly," said Harry honestly, "but I mean, I wondered if you were thinking about her pining away for you at home with her smother while you're having fun with me in Arizona."

"I don't think she'd have any more fun with us," said Sirius. "You don't take a woman like Barbara camping. And besides, this is kind of a guy thing, isn't it?"

Harry smiled. He couldn't have thought of a better answer than that. He was glad to have Sirius all to himself, just like it used to be. It reminded him of back before they'd gotten the bigger flat, and they slept in Sirius's studio, with Sirius on the floor and Harry in the one bed. Sirius couldn't understand why Harry liked living in such a hole in the wall (he wouldn't even bring Barbara there) but as far as Harry was concerned, as long as he and Sirius was together, it didn't matter what the living situation was.

"Why did you need all those beauty products, anyway?" said Harry, staring over into the corner where the suitcase had fallen open again. "I thought we were roughing it."

"We _are_ , but tomorrow is Wash Day," Sirius explained. "Depending on your hair type, you can't wash your hair every day, or it dries out."

"I've never known another guy to spend so much time on his hair," Harry told him. "If Phoebe becomes as obsessed with hair as you and Barbara are, things will be out of control."

Harry never thought much about his hair; it was kind of just there, like something that got in the way when it was too hot out, or bangs he was either brushing out of the way all the time or pressing down to cover his scar. But he supposed if you had luxurious long dark hair like Sirius's, with bangs that fell into your eyes in just the right way and if it was a bit messy it was because you wanted it like that, you thought about it a lot. Strangely, the only male who came close to spending that much time on his hair was Uncle Vernon, and half of that time was devoted to The Mustache, while the rest went towards applying enough hair gel to deflect nuclear warheads.

"Would you rather I be like Snape, then?" Sirius asked jokingly. "Someone who _never_ washes his hair?"

"Well…no," Harry admitted.

"One would think," said Sirius, "that if you're the Potions Master, you would know at least _something_ about hair potions, wouldn't you? But no, he doesn't care about his hair at all."

"What a crime," said Harry sarcastically.

"It was even worse when we were in school." Sirius leaned back on the pillows and crossed his arms behind his head. "He just wears black now, but he had to wear a white uniform shirt at school, and there were always stains on the shoulders, and if he turned his head quickly, he'd shower the poor kid next to him with grease. I've never been slapped in the face by his hair, but it happened to Lily a couple of times, for one…It didn't look like a pleasant experience."

Harry shuddered at the very thought of being slapped by Snape's hair. It would probably be even worse than getting slapped by his hand. He imagined his mother cringing as the greasy locks collided with her skin, and wondered how on Earth she could deal with him.

"I suppose if we lived in some weird alternate reality, and I'd been sorted into Slytherin, and we had been friends, I could have given him a makeover," Sirius mused. "You know, shown him the right clothes to wear, cut and washed his hair for him, shown him how to take care of it, taught him how to walk and what to say…Maybe he could've been popular, even."

"Snape being popular at Hogwarts is just as likely as you being sorted into Slytherin," said Harry. "So, not likely at all."

Sirius smiled.

"It's not like being greasy was something he couldn't help, anyway," he said. "If people didn't shower, we'd _all_ be greasy. There was really no excuse."

Harry thought of the Pile System, which he and Ron had used last year until Hermione had come in and gotten a whiff of their dorm, and how Ron thought you could cover up your sweat smell by spraying yourself liberally with body spray.

"Sometimes it's hard, though," he said.

"Well, I don't know why, but when you hit puberty, you start sweating a lot more, so you smell bad, and your hair gets a lot greasier, so kids who're used to bathing only once or twice a week and going weeks without washing their hair are in for a real shocker," Sirius told him. "But I was always hygienic, so it didn't bother me."

Harry was sure there was _nothing_ about growing up that had really bothered Sirius, in fact, but he didn't say it.

"If you look, in our old house, you'll find a picture of Kreacher giving me and Regulus a bath in the sink," Sirius continued.

"Really?" Harry laughed.

"Well, yes," said Sirius. "Most pureblood families did it that way. Part of a house-elf's job is to take care of the family, not just the house, and if the family has small children, one of his responsibilities is looking after them. You know, changing their diapers, giving them baths, helping them get dressed, brushing their teeth, serving their meals, cleaning up their toys, washing their clothes, putting the Silencing Charm on them when they _just won't shut up_ —"

"What?!"

"I'm kidding on that last one." Sirius grinned. "Sort of."

"I hope I can get my hands on a photo like that of Draco Malfoy," said Harry. "Then I can show it to everyone in school, especially Astoria Greengrass—you know, his crush."

"Just don't let Lucius Malfoy catch wind of it," Sirius replied.

"I think as long as we have Cassiopeia's cane, we'll be all right," said Harry. The image of Lucius Malfoy being beaten into submission by an eighty-year-old woman hadn't left his mind, and he was glad for it.

They stayed awake talking for an hour or so more, but as it goes when two people talk each other into sleep, the response times became longer and longer, and the responses themselves became shorter and shorter, until neither talked at all anymore, and Sirius and Harry were both fast asleep. And they needed their rest, for tomorrow and the day after would consist of their Camping Adventure.


	18. Forever and Ever

When Harry woke up the next morning, Sirius was still asleep. He was wrapped in the blankets as if they were a cocoon, and he was snuggling the pillow. Harry rolled his eyes at him and looked at the clock. It was eight in the morning.

Harry wondered if he should go back to sleep, since it was still relatively early…but then, they needed to set up camp and they needed to have some time for exploring. Not only that, but it might be a long ride to the campsite. Harry didn't even know where the campsite _was_. So he decided to just get up for the day. He dragged himself out of bed, located his toothbrush in his carry-on bag and the robe in the closet, and headed for the bathroom.

Once he had brushed his teeth and showered, washing his hair with the little hotel shampoos, he wrapped himself in the white hotel robe and stared at his hair in the mirror. It was a nightmare. It didn't even lie flat when it was wet. Instead it just kind of slopped everywhere, like someone had dropped a very malnourished small animal on his head. His bangs hung in his eyes, but not the way Sirius's did. Could nothing _really_ be done for it, he wondered?

Hoping Sirius wouldn't wake up, he snuck out of the bathroom and started digging through Regulus's big roller bag. He had "borrowed" Sirius's hair gel before, with disastrous results, but maybe it would be different this time. He was looking for gel, of course. Sirius hadn't brought his shaving cream, which wasn't really a surprise, as he only shaved about three or four times a week. Harry remembered last summer, where he'd been taking a bath in Sirius's old flat and sprayed the shaving cream all over the shower walls and in the water, and even given himself a beard with it. He couldn't believe he'd ever done something so childish, even if it was only last summer.

Once Harry finally sorted through everything Sirius brought and found the hair gel, he snuck it back into the bathroom, along with some hairspray. He wasn't sure how much gel to add, so he went on the heavy side to be safe, squirting a huge glop of it into his wand hand. Then he slapped his hand on top of his head and started smearing the gel around as best he could, looking in the mirror. He had never watched Sirius, or anyone else, apply hair gel before.

It didn't look encouraging. There was more gel in some places than others, and the many locks of hair, which stuck up every which way when they were dry, were starting to get weighed down with the creamy hair product. Some of it dripped onto the counter. Harry felt either water or liquidated gel running down the sides of his head. He applied more gel to the parts of his hair that had less, but that just seemed to make it worse. He grabbed his hairbrush and tried to brush it in, because he didn't have a comb, but the brush just slipped right through. Harry tried the hairspray, but he didn't know where to aim it or how much to spray so he just aimed for the top of his head, then the sides. He made sure not to spray it in his eyes by mistake, which was what he did the last time he tried hairspray.

Now, in the mirror, everything looked ten times worse. How did Sirius (not to mention Barbara and even Uncle Vernon) DO this?! How had his FATHER lived with this horrible hair for twenty-one years straight?!

Harry, still in the hotel robe, his head consumed by hair products, ran barefoot out into the main room, where Sirius, still asleep, was now passionately French-kissing his pillow, probably dreaming about what he wished he was doing to Barbara, Harry thought in annoyance.

"WAKE UP!" Harry shouted, yanking open the blinds so the sunlight came positively shooting in. Sirius yelled out, his hands flying instinctively to his face.

"THE FUCK!" he howled, rolling over onto his back and getting caught in the sheets.

"Stop making out with your pillow and get up, Sirius," Harry grouched. The situation was only made more infuriating by the fact that Sirius's hair didn't even look that messy. Or if it did, it was an endearing sort of messy, like usual. Sirius fought the bedsheets a little to free himself, then sat up, shook his hair out of his eyes, and blinked.

"What in Merlin's name did you do to your hair?" Sirius said back, staring at Harry in shock.

"I _styled_ it, okay?!" said Harry, feeling himself turn bright red. He stalked back into the bathroom, slamming the door as hard as he could.

But a few moments later Sirius opened the door anyway and stepped into the bathroom, now dressed in his fuzzy dark-blue bathrobe. When he noticed the hair products on the sink, and made the connection with Harry's hair, he laughed so hard he fell into the bathtub.

"IT'S NOT FUNNY!" Harry shouted.

"Sorry, kid," Sirius gasped, standing up again. He still had tears of mirth in his eyes. "You tried to style your hair, huh?"

"It just looked bad, that's all, and…" Harry stared at himself in the mirror. "Now it looks _really_ bad."

"Here, let me help," said Sirius, turning on the sink. "Just lean your head back."

It took some time to rinse all the hair gel out, which made it all the more embarrassing. Harry's neck didn't hurt, because Sirius was bending his neck back gently, and since he was washing the gel out, it felt like a scalp massage. But even so…

"I'm sorry," Harry told him.

"Don't be sorry," Sirius replied. "You gave me a real good laugh. But you're not going to get anywhere by slopping copious amounts of gel into your hair. Maybe with a little work we can get it to look better than it did, okay?"

"Okay," said Harry.

Once the gel was finally all rinsed out, Sirius lifted Harry's head out of the sink and dried his hair off with a towel. He left the bathroom for a minute, then came back with a totally different hair product.

"This is mousse," he explained. "You know, a hair tamer."

"It's not going to work."

"Well, it _might_ not, but we can try," Sirius said hopefully. "Now I just need to—dammit!"

"What?"

"I've been using that hair-drying spell since I was eleven, and now I can't!" Sirius threw up his hands in frustration. "No way am I going to break the bet over this! No, I will NOT be groomed at a dog salon!"

Sirius sounded like he was trying to persuade himself.

"Did you bring a hairdryer?" Harry asked.

"Oh—I should've," Sirius muttered furiously. "I should've…I mean, I've seen Barbara use hers, I could probably figure it out. It can't be that different, can it? But now we don't have access to one…"

Harry looked underneath the cabinets.

"I found one," he said.

"Good!" Sirius grabbed the hairdryer, ran out of the room again, and came back with a strange sort of brush; instead of a back, it was totally round, with bristles sticking out at all sides. "This is a hair-styling brush. Maybe it can work well with this hairdryer."

Sirius didn't squirt a lot of mousse into his hands, just a little.

"Your hair is really thick to begin with, so adding a lot of product is a bit self-defeating," he explained as he expertly worked it into Harry's hair, focusing on the roots especially. "Like they say, a little dab'll do ya. Right now…here goes nothing."

Sirius got the brush and hairdryer and started styling, doing the sides first, then Harry's bangs. Harry's ear almost got burned a little, but since his hair was short, it was over pretty quick.

"I taught myself all of this," Sirius said proudly as he turned off the hairdryer and fluffed Harry's hair a little bit with his hands. "Well? What do you think?"

"Wow!" said Harry. "That's amazing!"

It didn't look like his old hair, that was for sure. Instead of hanging on his forehead the way they always did, Harry's bangs were swept to one side, all to the right of his left side part. (Usually he didn't try to part his hair at all.) It wasn't lying flat, it just looked… _different._ Better different.

"You can start styling it yourself like that if you want," Sirius added.

"I don't know, it looks complicated," said Harry. "But…why didn't you show me this before? You've seen me struggle with hair gel and combs and stuff, and you always told me there was nothing to be done for it. You said you saw my dad struggle with his hair for ten years straight."

"Yeah, but…" Sirius frowned. "I mean, I always thought that way. Like whatever he tried, it would just start sticking out again. But the thing is, the two of you were always trying to make it lie flat, and that really is hopeless. As I was washing your hair in the sink, I realized that maybe instead of trying to make your hair lie flat, we could just kind of…take advantage of the way it sticks up. You know? Give it more volume instead of less."

Feeling in the back of his head, Harry realized that the jet-black locks still couldn't lie flat; it simply looked now as if Harry intended for them to be that way. They weren't sticking out randomly anymore, but were controlled, mostly to the right of his part and a few on the left. And they were…rather bouncy, Harry realized, moving his head back and forth a little.

"By God, you're right," he whispered.

"I guess it's not quite as perfect as mine," said Sirius, fluffing his own hair. "But nobody's is."

"Imagine if I start wearing it to school this way!" Harry exclaimed. "You'd have to teach me, though."

"No problem," said Sirius, beaming.

Harry got dressed for the day while Sirius took his shower. He'd brought only one change of clothes, he realized, so he decided to wear yesterday's clothes again today, because he knew he'd want a change of clothes if his old ones got dirty, wet or ripped when he and Sirius were "roughing it" today.

After his shower, of course, Sirius needed time to do _his_ hair. Since his hair was long, it took more time to blow-dry. He flipped it upside down and rolled his locks around the funny round brush, then straightened up and did the sides. When he turned off the blow-dryer, he fluffed it with his hands and looked in the mirror admiringly.

"Sirius," said Harry, "when it comes to hair, you're more high-maintenance than any other guy I know. So…how did you survive in Azkaban? You didn't get your hair washed or cut for ten years straight."

"Just before I got thrown in Azkaban, Harry, your parents died and I lost everything," Sirius said simply. "Quite frankly, my hair was the last thing on my mind."

Harry could tell from the finality in Sirius's tone that he had just dropped the subject.

"Well then. Uh…" Harry cleared his throat awkwardly, wishing he hadn't asked, and continued, "Where are we going to camp out?"

"I figured I could ask a local down in the hotel where some good campgrounds might be," Sirius replied.

They grabbed their bags, packed everything up, and left the room. Harry allowed Sirius to pack his beauty products in the carry-on, so there would be more room for the camping supplies in Regulus's roller bag.

After checking out at the front desk, Sirius asked the clerk if he knew of any good campgrounds nearby.

"Actually, I would suggest backcountry camping," said the clerk brightly. "I do it with my family a couple times a year. It gets you solitude and it's free."

…

Harry and Sirius agreed to go to backcountry camping. The clerk told them there were more fancy, modern campsites, with things like showers and grocery stores, but Sirius and Harry wouldn't hear of it. They were warned that there would most likely be no ponds or streams nearby, so they bought a huge amount of cold water bottles, hopefully enough to last them until tomorrow afternoon, which was when they were to catch their flight home. Just in case there was a pond or other water source, they brought straws that purified the water. Sirius also bought marshmallows, some snacks, and a camera. They took a cab, as the local suggested, and it seemed to drop them off in the middle of nowhere. There were a lot of cacti around, like the ones Harry had on his souvenir.

"What should we do first?" said Harry, looking around. "Set up the equipment? Or explore?"

"Explore, definitely," Sirius replied.

Harry kept reaching his hand up to feel his new hair as they walked, until Sirius told him to stop or he'd dislodge it. Sirius bought baseball hats and sunglasses for them, too. Harry would wear the sunglasses, but he wouldn't wear the hat.

"No way am I messing _this_ up," he said.

They walked around the desert. The local told them it could actually get cold at night, so Harry and Sirius tied their hoodies around their waists and went exploring in their jeans and T-shirts, their wands safely in their back pockets, just in case. Harry always thought you met mosquitos on camping trips, but apparently not in the desert. Sirius was bringing along Richard's camping book, reading about the different types of wildlife.

"This book says most animals here are nocturnal, because it gets so hot during the day," he said.

"I believe it," said Harry. It was incredibly hot, and he didn't see how anyone could live out here. When he looked at his watch, he saw that 1:00 PM was approaching—when the sun was at a very high point in the sky. "What does the book say about surviving hot weather, Sirius?"

Sirius paged through the book until he found it. Harry wiped his bangs out of his eyes; he was sweating profusely by now, and his new hairdo was starting to fall apart. Maybe they should've used more hairspray.

"Ah! Here we go," Sirius said triumphantly. "It says if you're planning on doing activities, you should do them in the morning or in the night, and use the afternoon as rest time. It says…oh my God, it says thousands of people die of heat stroke per year!"

"That's reassuring," said Harry sarcastically.

"Let's just go eat lunch and take a nap, then," Sirius suggested, taking a big swig of water; he looked overheated, too. "Maybe around evening we can take a nature walk or something."

And that was when Harry heard it.

" _Get away from here, humans_ … _don't disturb my nest_ …"

"What was that?" Harry said in shock, turning around, but he didn't see anyone. "Did you hear that?"

"I didn't hear anything." Sirius looked perplexed.

"It came from over there," Harry told him, pointing to where he heard the voice. Then he heard it once more.

 _He can't hear me_ … _he can't understand me_ … _leave now or I'm going to attack_ …

"Harry, mate, I reckon this heat's gotten to your head," Sirius insisted. "Here—put this water bottle to your forehead, that'll help."

"No! Sirius, stop, you're walking right at it!" Harry cried.

"At _what?"_

"The _voice_ , don't you hear it?!"

Sirius definitely looked concerned now, but…

 _I AM GOING TO BITE YOU HUMANS!_

And suddenly Harry understood. Just as he put two and two together, a long snake came slithering out from between some large rocks. It was shaking its tail, making an eerie noise like a death rattle.

"Oh," said Sirius, eyes wide, and Harry knew he'd come to the same realization.

"It says it's going to bite us!" Harry said frantically. "Is it venomous?"

"Yes, I saw a picture of it in the book!" Sirius pulled Harry's hand and started tugging him away. "Is it a rattler? Quick, is it saying anything now?"

 _COME BACK HERE, DETESTABLE HUMANS! I WON'T LET YOU GET AWAY THAT EASILY! YOU WILL MEET YOUR DEATH BY MY FANGS!_

"It says it's going to kill us!" Harry told him. In answer, Sirius started running, pulling Harry along behind him.

"Come on, come on, _move!"_ he shouted.

Harry didn't need telling twice. He broke into a run on his own, following behind Sirius, as they knew the rattlesnake was behind them. But they couldn't run for long. It was just too hot. Harry's head spun and he collapsed onto the ground. He felt Sirius tugging on his hand, but his legs just wouldn't move.

"Get up, mate," Sirius was begging. "Come on, get up. It's going to bite us…"

"Just…just go on without me," Harry mumbled deliriously.

"Never!" Sirius said fiercely.

Harry heard the rattles right behind him. He should have known Sirius would never go on without him. Looking up through his foggy eyes, he saw Sirius's face was red, too, soaked in sweat, eyes wild with worry. And then—

In an instant, Sirius pulled his half-empty water bottle out of his belt and splashed the rest of it all over Harry's face, soaking him. Harry sat up again, gasping and choking, and he couldn't care less if his hair was ruined.

"Here's yours," said Sirius, throwing his empty bottle away and grabbing Harry's. "Put it up against your forehead, like this."

Sirius pressed the cold water bottle up to Harry's forehead and Harry held it there, feeling the cool relief wash through him. He was breathing hard.

"Why did you do that, Sirius?" he panted. "Now you haven't got any water, and who knows how far we are from the rest of our supply."

"I'll live," said Sirius with a smile, placing one hand on Harry's shoulder. "Now, let's see what the book has to say about dealing with rattlesnakes, shall we?"

"Okay," said Harry. Sirius flipped to the section of the book that included desert animals. Harry wanted him to hurry. The rattlesnake was coiling, preparing to strike.

"It says to poke the snake with a stick to stop it coiling," Sirius read out loud. "Then throw rocks at it until you kill it."

"We don't have a stick," said Harry, looking around, but Sirius shook his head and pulled his wand out of his back pocket. Harry watched in shock as Sirius poked the snake with his wand, causing it to uncoil. When it tried to coil again, Harry poked it with his own wand. Sirius kept poking it, while Harry located a rock and threw it at the snake.

 _Ouch! Okay, that's it! I'm DEFINITELY going to bite you now!_

Harry threw another rock. Sirius got in on it, too, hastily shoving his wand back into his pocket. Finally, someone hit the snake's head with a rock, and it either died or passed out.

"What now?" said Harry, relieved. He could hardly believe it.

"It says we can cook and eat it for lunch," said Sirius. "Just cut off the snake's head, cook it in a fire, and eat it."

"But won't you get poisoned if you eat a venomous snake?" Harry asked.

"That's why you cut its head off," Sirius explained.

"So," said Harry, "we're going to have to start a fire without magic, aren't we?"

"I've said it before and I've said it again." Sirius grinned. "We don't give Muggles enough credit."

…

Somehow, Harry and Sirius found their way back to the side of the road, which was where they had left their bags. Sirius carried the rattlesnake, which was going to be their lunch. It was good, he said, because they could ration the snacks they bought, and Harry didn't fancy eating trail mix for lunch today, anyway.

"Okay, Harry, here's the plan," said Sirius, handing Harry the book. "You read to me how to start a campfire, and I'll go through the steps."

Harry and Sirius had to get kindling before they could start the fire. They weren't in a woodsy area, but there was some vegetation there besides cacti. There were some bushes, and even if there were no logs, they located enough twigs and leaves.

"I saw on TV you're supposed to rub two sticks together," said Harry. "But it says in the book we have to build the fire and then light a match on it."

They worked together to build the fire, arranging the sticks in the way the book instructed. Harry was hoping their fire would last long enough that they could cook their dinner. Finally, Sirius dug around in his bag for a moment and located a matchbox.

"I'll light the match, Sirius," said Harry, who had done it before, and was a little concerned about what might happen if Sirius tried it when he was used to using his wand as a match.

Harry struck the match and, to his relief, the kindling caught fire.

"Good job," said Sirius. "Now I'll cut off the snake's head. Hand me one of those marshmallow skewers we brought, will you?"

Sirius pulled out a pocketknife and flipped it open. Harry didn't look as he decapitated the rattlesnake. At least it was dead, so he didn't have to hear it screaming in Parseltongue. But then, if he hadn't been able to understand the snake's words, they might have been bitten.

Once the head was off, Sirius stabbed the snake with a skewer and held it in the fire.

"Right," said Harry. "That's how they cook them on TV."

It was a late lunch, almost 2:00 by the time they were sure the snake was done cooking. Harry was apprehensive about the snake; he thought it would be gross. But to be honest, it tasted just like chicken, not bad at all. It was certainly better than the food on the airplane.

After lunch, the combination of the afternoon desert heat and the meal was making both Sirius and Harry feel sleepy. Sirius extinguished the fire with another of their water bottles. It was okay, they decided, because they still had a little over a gallon left. Sirius untied his hoodie from his waist and tucked it under his head like a pillow and kicked off his hiking boots. Harry did the same (except he was wearing gym shoes), and before they knew it, they were sleeping like babies.

…

When Harry woke up, Sirius's hoodie was thrown over him like a blanket, and there was a travel pillow underneath his head. Sirius was already awake, looking through the book with intense concentration. All the camping equipment was out of Regulus's suitcase and strewn all over the ground.

"Sirius?" said Harry sleepily. "Are you trying to pitch the tent?"

"Yeah." Sirius nodded. "It's around five, so it's not going to get dark for another few hours. I figured we could go on a nature walk, and after we got back we could pitch our tent and watch the sunset. After that we can roast marshmallows by the campfire."

Harry was surprised he'd slept for three hours straight, but then, maybe that was what heat did to you. He didn't think he would get sunburned, because they both put on sunscreen before they left the hotel.

It was a lot easier to go on a nature walk when it was cool out. The desert was supposed to get chilly at night, and of course it was roasting during the day, but in the evening, it was perfect. The nocturnal animals were starting to come out of their sleeping places, and the sun cast long shadows on the ground of flora and fauna alike. Sirius let Harry use the camera, taking pictures of animals he thought looked interesting, animals they didn't have back home.

Sirius read in the book that instead of fireflies, kids in the American Southwest would catch lizards at night. As the sun continued to sink in the desert sky, Harry found the lizards crawling around on the ground, and he had fun trying to catch them. Sirius took some pictures. When they got home, they'd develop them in a special potion, which would make them move.

After Harry was done catching lizards, and it was about eight at night, Harry and Sirius figured they'd better pitch their tent now, so they didn't miss the sunset.

"How to Pitch a Tent," Harry read from the book. "Okay…first you have to set up the poles."

Sirius arranged the poles as best he could, going off the picture in the book, but Harry didn't think their tent looked much like the picture in the book.

"Is _this_ how you do it?" Sirius grunted, trying to keep the poles standing upright.

"Yeah, I think so," said Harry, grabbing the tarp and stretching it over the poles, but it just sprang back.

"Let me have a go." Sirius tried valiantly, but he couldn't get the tarp to fit over the poles, either. "What are we doing _wrong?"_

"Hang on," said Harry. "We're supposed to nail the sides of the tarp in with a mallet."

"Do we _have_ a mallet?"

"Gwen gave us everything we need," Harry replied, and he looked through Regulus's roller bag until, sure enough, he found the mallet, and some pegs to nail the tent into the ground. He handed them to Sirius.

"All right." Sirius placed one of the nails in the ground and raised the mallet. "One—two—SHIT!"

Sirius had hammered his thumb instead of the peg somehow.

"Here, I'll do it, Sirius," said Harry quickly.

"I don't want you banging your fingers, too," Sirius told him shortly, and tried again, but even when he hammered the tarp onto the pegs, it just sprang back up again, and he hit his fingers a fair few more times, too, swearing loudly when he did.

"You know, Sirius," said Harry, "the sun is setting. Why don't we give up on the tent and just sleep out under the stars?"

"You're right," Sirius agreed, mopping his brow. "Let's see that sunset."

The sunset was beautiful. They watched the hot sun slowly sink and sink, the sky turning brilliant shades of pink and yellow and blue. It got chilly, just as predicted, and they put on their hoodies for the first time since they'd set out. Once the sunset was over, they headed back to their campsite by the failed tent and suitcases. They built another fire and roasted marshmallows. Harry told a scary story, which freaked Sirius out a little, and after Sirius put out the fire, it was finally time for bed.

Sirius found two sleeping bags in Regulus's roller bag. After spreading them out on the ground, he and Harry changed into their pajamas, slipping their hoodies back on to keep warm. Then they climbed into their sleeping bags. Harry looked up and gasped.

"Yes," said Sirius. "You certainly can see a lot more when you get away from the lights of the city, can't you?"

"I'll say," said Harry. The night sky was everywhere, surrounding them; millions of stars shone bright, scattered everywhere like bread crumbs.

"You know, Harry, this reminds me of the time James and I took you camping," Sirius continued fondly.

"You took _me_ camping? As a baby?"

"It was just in the backyard," Sirius said. "It was to celebrate your first birthday. Lily could watch us from out the window. But all the same, it was two guys and one baby, having a nice camping adventure. We roasted marshmallows and sang, and I showed you the stars. I remember you reached out and tried to grab them while you were sitting on your dad's lap, and your eyes got so big, we could see the stars reflecting in them."

Harry tried to imagine himself as this baby, and his father holding him on his lap, but it was hard. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't see himself as being happy as a baby. The only thing he even remembered vaguely about his parents was their deaths.

"What happened then?" he asked.

"What happened was, you got sticky marshmallows all over your face and in your hair, so James and I had to bring you in the house, and Lily had to chop off half your hair." Sirius grinned at the memory. "And then—just as she was done—it all grew back as good as new. James laughed so hard, he cried. Lily gave you a little kiss and got you a new change of clothes, and James wrapped you up in a little blanket, and we went outside again. James and I slept in sleeping bags, and James held you in his arms."

Harry tried to picture this. At first, he'd laughed at the part about the marshmallows. But now, thinking of his mother giving him a kiss, and falling asleep in his father's arms, he felt the most terrible, horrible, empty longing, eating away at him like the awful hunger it was. He snuggled a little closer to Sirius, placing his head on his godfather's chest. Sirius put an arm around him.

"You—you said my dad was laughing," Harry said in a small, slightly higher-pitched voice. "What did he sound like?"

"Well, when he spoke, it sounded confident, like a man who was in charge of his life," Sirius replied. "But when he laughed, it was loud and genuine. It filled the whole room and when you heard it, you couldn't help but join in. It was like a sip of hot chocolate on a cold day. When he smiled he had a glint in his eye, like there was a secret between only the two of you.

"Now, your mother…her laugh was high and sweet, like a song. When she smiled, it was like you'd swallowed a drop of sunshine. Her voice, when she spoke to you, was gentle and kind. Of course, she was very kind. Quite a bit of sass, yes, but such a big heart. Both of them loved each other, and you, so very much."

It was only when Sirius paused that Harry realized hot tears were leaking out of his eyes; his throat felt tight. He didn't want to let Sirius know, but Sirius must have either heard Harry sniff, or seen him wipe his eyes on his sleeve, or both, because he ruffled Harry's hair and lowered his voice.

"Harry," he said gently, "look up at the sky. Tell me what you see."

"The stars," said Harry, his voice wavering.

"Exactly." Sirius's voice was barely above a whisper. "You see? Up there, Harry, that's where your parents are now, watching over you, always with you. Just because they're gone from this world doesn't mean they've ever really left you. You'll always carry them in your heart, and so will I."

"But—but you'll never leave me, will you, Sirius?" Harry asked, putting both arms around Sirius and clinging to him as tight as he could.

"Well, look again," said Sirius, pointing. "See that bright shiny one right there? That's me, Sirius, the Dog Star. Always up there in the sky, watching over you. So no, I'll never leave you, Harry. Just look up at the night sky, and there I'll be. Forever and ever."

 _Forever and ever_. Harry looked up at the stars once more, and he could imagine it—Lily and James, his parents, looking down at him, smiling down at him. Maybe someday, they'd be proud of who he'd become. It made him feel a lot better.

"I'll love you forever, Sirius," said Harry sleepily, closing his eyes.

"I'll love you too, Prongslet," Sirius replied, wiping away one of Harry's stray tears and giving his hair an affectionate stroke. "Forever and ever."


	19. Groomed

Harry awoke to a ray of Arizona sunshine glaring in his eyes. He looked around for his glasses, and found them sitting next to his sleeping bag, where he'd set them last night. He grabbed a bottle of water and took a long gulp from it, watching Sirius, who was standing in front of a mirror he'd brought, wearing his jeans and Gryffindor socks but no shirt, smoothing his hair vainly.

After staring into the mirror and admiring his hair a little longer, Sirius reached down into Harry's bag, pulled out a bottle of some hair product or another, and sprayed it evenly into his hair, lifting up the locks separately to make sure he got it everywhere. Once he'd combed the product in, he grabbed his Old Spice cologne and spread it onto his neck and shoulders. He ran one hand over his unshaven chin and grinned at his reflection.

"That's why Sirius isn't just the brightest star in the sky," he said to himself, "but also the _hottest_."

Sirius licked his finger, touched it to the mirror, and made a hissing noise. Harry tried not to laugh out loud—but then he felt something…off in his sleeping bag. Sirius heard the gasp.

"Oh, Harry, you're awake," he said, turning around. "What's the problem?"

"There's—there's something in my sleeping bag," said Harry, taking a peek inside and pulling his head out again, feeling horrified.

"Something like what?" Sirius said anxiously.

"Something _alive!"_ said Harry, feeling it nudge his foot again, and he scampered out of the sleeping bag. So, too, did the strange creature.

"What is it?" Sirius whispered.

"I don't know, look it up in the book!"

Sirius turned the pages frantically until he got to the "Wild Animals" section, and informed Harry that the critter was a scorpion, and that it could sting them.

"If it stings us—" Sirius began, but didn't finish.

"What? We'll die?" Harry took off at a run, Sirius following close behind him. It was sort of like yesterday when they were running from the snake, except it was morning, so it wasn't too hot out. They hoped the scorpion would be gone by the time they returned to camp a few minutes later, but it wasn't.

"Oh no," said Sirius.

"Kill it, Sirius, kill it!" Harry yelled.

Sirius didn't need telling twice. He grabbed Robert's guidebook and smashed the shit out of the scorpion.

"There," he said in satisfaction, "that should do it."

It wasn't such a hot morning, so they decided to play tag. To make it more fun, Sirius played as Padfoot. Changing into his Animagus mode didn't count as magic—or even if it did, nobody would know, because he didn't need his wand to do it. Harry poured some water into a bowl and Sirius would slurp it, and Harry finished his own water bottle. Padfoot was much faster than Harry, so Harry was "It" a lot.

For lunch, Sirius made another fire and they couldn't decide what to eat for lunch, so they just made s'mores. The fumes of the fire only made the air hotter, since the sun was at its highest point in the sky now, and they realized how sweaty and dirty they were.

"D'you think playing tag was a bad idea?" Harry asked, taking a long drink from another water bottle.

"Yeah, definitely," Sirius replied. "I hate being sweaty, don't you? My hair feels like someone set an electric blanket on my head."

"Me, too," said Harry, brushing it out of his eyes. Sweat and water had caused his new hairstyle to fall flat, and it was sticking out everywhere again, even worse because of the humidity. "Maybe it wouldn't feel like that, Sirius, if you didn't put all that gel in this morning."

"Don't you know dry shampoo when you see it?" Sirius said.

"Whatever," said Harry. "I'm going to get another water bottle."

"I'll douse the fire with this one," said Sirius, holding up his half-full bottle.

But Harry made a horrible discovery upon locating their water supply…there were no water bottles left. They drank them all; Sirius had the last one, and he was just about to pour it on the fire.

"Sirius! Wait! Stop!" Harry yelled, but it was too late. Sirius poured the water on the fire, and it went out.

"What?" said Sirius.

"That was our last water bottle!" Harry told him. "And some use those fancy straws were, considering there's no water around!"

Dramatically he gestured to the area around them. Their campsite stretched from the side of the road to some big rocks, which Harry would have liked to climb, except he was too hot and tired at the moment to climb anything.

"Maybe it says something in the book about finding water in the desert," Sirius suggested, pushing his bangs out of his eyes and fanning himself.

"I'll look," Harry said, picking Robert's book up from the ground.

"Well?" Sirius said finally, after Harry had some time to leaf through it.

"There's water everywhere," said Harry, relieved.

"How? Has this heat made you lose your senses, Harry?"

"No, it's in the cacti!"

Sirius looked around. Cacti had water in them, and since there were cacti everywhere, that meant water was everywhere!

"I'm going to get some!" Sirius announced, taking off. Harry kept looking through the book.

"Hang on, Sirius," he said. "It says cacti are full of water, but they're also full of—"

"HOLYGODDAMNMOTHERFUCKING _SHIT!"_

"Spikes," Harry finished as Sirius walked back to camp furiously, holding his hands out in front of him. He sat down, fuming, and Harry had to help him get the cactus spikes out of his fingers, which seemed very painful. There was nothing in the book that told you how to get those out of your fingers, so Harry just pulled them out one by one.

When all the spikes were finally out of Sirius's hands, they collapsed onto the ground. They didn't see any ponds or streams, the cacti refused to give up their water without a fight, and it was boiling out.

"I wish I had just _one_ water bottle, even," said Sirius longingly. "I'm so thirsty."

"Me, too," Harry moaned.

"Harry, we've got to drink something, or we'll die of thirst," Sirius told him, sitting up and wiping his forehead. "We're going to have to do something desperate."

"You mean, drink our own pee?"

"What?" Sirius stared.

"I saw it on a survival show," Harry explained. "The guy ran out of water, so he peed in his canteen and—"

"That's disgusting," said Sirius, "and no, we're not going to do that. We're going to use _magic_ to get the water out of the cactus."

"But…but we'll break the bet!" Harry cried. "We won't get any free pizza, _and_ you'll have to go to a doggy groomer!"

"I want that free pizza just as much as you do, Harry, and I don't want to be groomed as a dog," Sirius replied, pulling out his wand. "But neither do I wish to drink my own piss to survive."

"Well, all right," Harry said reluctantly, watching Sirius approach a cactus. In the book, it said only the prickly pear cactus would be safe for them to drink from, so that was the kind Sirius found, judging by the book's picture. He rolled up his sleeves.

" _Deprimo!"_ said Sirius loudly and clearly, pointing his wand at the cactus, which shattered into pieces. Sirius also conjured a bowl out of thin air, so they could collect it. They felt bad about exploding the cacti, but, as Sirius said, "you gotta do what you gotta do."

The book said they should only drink a little bit of cactus water, or they'd get sick. So Sirius filled two shallow saucers with cactus water, and then conjured little glasses with umbrellas in them, Harry assumed to make it more aesthetically pleasing. The water kind of tasted funny, but it was water.

"That's better," said Harry, taking a long sip from his drink.

"You know what?" Sirius added, gulping the water down. "Since we've already used magic and we've lost the bet, why don't we use some more?"

"Okay!" said Harry. "Like what?"

"You'll see," Sirius replied with a grin.

Harry was glad he asked. Sirius used the _Agua Eructo_ spell on Harry, which gave him a blast of cold water right in the face, and it felt great. Sirius used it on himself, too. They conjured up lawn chairs and umbrellas to shade them from the hot sun. Sirius put the tent up with magic, too, and used a nifty little sunscreen spell on Harry and himself.

"Is this what happens when a wizard isn't allowed to do magic for too long?" said Harry. They both put on their sunglasses and hats, and were drinking the last of the cactus water. They used the fancy filter straws, to get all the bad chemicals out.

"This is what happens when a wizard is dehydrated out in the desert, at least," said Sirius serenely.

They had been laying there for possibly another hour when Harry got up.

"Where are you going?" said Sirius lazily, lowering his sunglasses.

"I just have to pee," said Harry. "And don't worry, I'm not going to drink it."

"All right, but don't get lost or anything." Sirius pulled his sunglasses up and lay back down again, arms behind his head, one leg crossed over the other.

Harry didn't want to go too far, or he _would_ get lost. But still, he wanted to find a place where he could be sure of a bit of privacy. Finally, he decided to climb over the big rocks on the other side of their campsite—but when he did, he got a huge surprise.

"SIRIUS!" he hollered. "COME QUICK!"

It wasn't long before Sirius was scrambling over the rocks, too, looking panicked.

"What? What?" he kept repeating, until he saw what.

It was a medium-sized, clear pond, surrounded by cattails and a few trees. The bright-blue water was glistening in the hot afternoon sun. They had been dehydrated all day and had to resort to drinking from a cactus, yet there had been a pond here all along, hiding behind the big rocks. They had broken the bet for nothing.

Sirius just stared for a moment, mouth agape, then threw up his hands in exasperation.

"Oh, come ON!" he shouted to the sky.

…

Finding the pond wasn't all bad. They drank from it, of course, with their filter straws, and later went swimming in it, which felt even better than _Agua Eructus_. And the flight home was a lot easier with magic, too. Sirius shrunk everything, including Regulus's roller bag itself, and put it all in Harry's duffel bag.

They chose a flight with a layover this time, so they wouldn't have to spend eleven hours straight in a plane again. On the first flight (Tucson to New York) they had been seated next to a kind old lady who gave them hard candies from her purse, and on the second flight (New York to London) they sat next to a man who slept the entire time. There wasn't another Mrs. Willis to speak of, and they were pleased to report that the bathroom facilities on both planes worked just fine.

Regulus and Barbara met them at the gate. You could see Regulus's smirk about a mile away.

"Hey, man," said Sirius, "before you start in with the 'I-told-you-so' business—"

"I have a grooming appointment set up for you this Saturday." Regulus cut him off. "That's the twenty-fifth."

"Is it at the Magical Menagerie?" Sirius asked, referring to the magical pet store in Diagon Alley.

"Oh, no," said Regulus. "I know as well as you do that if we're in a magical place, you can bail if you feel like it. No, we're going to a No-Maj groomer."

"And no free pizza?" Harry said forlornly.

"Well, the stakes were that if you won, I'd get you free pizza for a week," Regulus replied. "Since you lost, that's obviously out the window…But since you were able to go _almost_ the whole trip without using magic, I'll throw in _one_ free dinner. Think of it as a booby prize."

"Hooray!" said Harry, and even Sirius smiled.

…

Sirius and Harry spent most of Friday sleeping off their jet lag (that was probably why Regulus scheduled the appointment for Saturday and not Friday). Sirius had to transform before they got in the car on Saturday morning, though, and Regulus put a collar and leash on him.

"You're looking shaggy, Padfoot," he said with a laugh. "Time to get groomed."

Barbara was tired and didn't feel like getting up in the morning, so Regulus just drove Sirius and Harry alone. It wasn't a long drive, because the groomer was right in London. Regulus parked and they all got out of the car. Regulus hooked Sirius up to his leash.

"So where is this place?" Harry asked.

"We're almost there," Regulus told him. They walked a little in the sunshine; after the Arizona desert heat, it felt perfect. Lots of people asked to pet Sirius, and he was a good sport about that, at least. He licked their fingers, sniffed them, and wagged his tail. When Regulus said "sit" he wouldn't do it, but he would high-five people with his paw, which was a trick Harry knew some dogs could do.

Finally, they reached the grooming place. It turned out to be a vet's office that also happened to offer grooming services. Regulus had to fill out a form.

"Dog's name: Padfoot," said Regulus, reading the form out loud. "Owner: Regulus Black…"

Sirius growled.

"Hmm," said Regulus. "When _was_ your last rabies shot, Sirius?"

Harry cracked up, but Sirius just growled again. When Regulus was done with the form, the groomer came and got Sirius. Regulus and Harry followed them into the room.

"Such a beautiful dog," said the groomer, running her hand along Sirius's thick black coat. "What name did you choose?"

"Padfoot," said Harry.

"How nice," she said. "Now let's get that grooming done."

"Make sure you have lots of ribbons—and bows, maybe," Regulus told her.

"But this is a boy dog," she pointed out.

"I know," Regulus replied. "But he likes to feel pretty."

The groomer got to work cutting Sirius's fur. She said it would be a good idea to cut it short, because it was so hot out. Harry didn't think Sirius's human hairstyle would change, but his coat would be much shorter for a long time. Hopefully it would grow back by winter.

"You know, I can't help but notice," the groomer commented, "you haven't neutered him."

"Yeah," said Regulus. "He's always trying to mate with females."

"Or people's legs," said Harry, getting in on the act. Sirius growled at them again.

"There's already been an unplanned pregnancy," Regulus told the groomer, somehow managing to keep a straight face.

"I get to keep one of the puppies," Harry added brightly. "They're due this September."

"Well, this is a vet's office, too," the groomer said casually. "We could neuter him for you, if you'd like."

Regulus looked thoughtful. Sirius yelped.

"Maybe we should, Harry," he said. "I mean, there are probably a lot of benefits. It might be the only way to keep him from mating all the time."

Harry didn't know how he kept from laughing, but he did. Sirius was whining.

"It's almost as if he understands the very words we're saying," the groomer said in wonder. "But what do you want to do?"

"I guess we'll keep him the way he is, for now," Regulus said finally. "Who knows, we might want to breed him or something."

Sirius looked relieved, but he growled at Regulus again. Once they were done, the groomer got a big pink ribbon, and tied it around Sirius's neck. Harry patted him on the head, and Regulus hooked him up to the leash again. Sirius did look a lot less shaggy, but still, he looked good.

When they got out of the vet's office, the first thing Sirius did was lift his leg and pee all over the hem of Regulus's slacks. Harry doubled over laughing.

"Hey! Those were my new pants, Sirius!" Regulus shouted.

Sirius just wagged his tail, and they walked on. Once they left the main road, Sirius resumed his human form.

"Thanks for almost getting me castrated back there, Regulus," he grouched.

"Oh, come on," said Regulus. "What happened to your sense of humor?"

"It went away with the Severing Charm they could've used on me!"

"Actually," Regulus told him, "the No-Maj vet does it with a scalpel and scissors, I believe."

Sirius made a horrified noise of disbelief. "That's barbaric!"

"Never thought I'd see _you_ calling a No-Maj practice barbaric, Sirius," said Regulus coolly.

"Look, I know what I've said about Muggles, Reg," Sirius began, "but that's just—"

Sirius's words were cut off suddenly and before Harry knew it, the three of them had been slammed into a wall. Harry gasped. Standing there in front of them were two men with ski masks and one handgun each, pointing directly into their faces.

"Don't try anything funny," said the one on the right. "Just reach into your pockets and give us your wallets, or we'll shoot."

Harry, Sirius and Regulus looked at each other, and they understood—if they reached for their wands now, it would look like they were reaching for guns of their own, and the muggers would shoot first.

They were screwed.


	20. Flip That Nursery

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: I realize I have watched WAAAY too much HGTV with my mom. This warning will make more sense later in the chapter.**

…

"Put your wallet on the ground," the man on the left said, pointing his shotgun at Regulus. "Hands in the air, all three of youse."

Slowly, Regulus reached into his pocket and set his wallet on the ground. Then he raised his hands into the air, along with Harry and Sirius. Harry was surprised the muggers didn't ask him or Sirius to empty their pockets, but he knew better than to say anything.

The man on the left set his gun down carefully and picked up the wallet. Instead of pulling out cash or credit cards, though, he found Regulus's driver's license.

"Well, well, well," he said with a grin. "If it isn't Reggie 'Deep Dish' Black."

"Looks like we've got the right man, then," added his associate. "Papa Pepe will be so pleased."

"What are you talking about?" said Sirius, but Regulus's eyes had suddenly gone wide.

"Wait a minute," he said in shock. "You aren't…you aren't from the Pepe family, are you?"

"Sort of," said the first mugger with a short laugh. "We were hired to exterminate you, Deep Dish."

"Boss told us to bring him your head on a silver pizza platter," said the second.

"Or in a takeout box, if that won't do," the first added. They laughed again.

"Reg, what's going on?" Sirius hissed.

"They're Papa Pepe's goons!" Regulus whispered back. "From the underground Pizza Mafia! They're my greatest business rival!"

"Wait, there's a pizza mafia?" Harry stared.

"Of _course_ there's a pizza mafia, you foolish little boy," snarled the first mugger, who they realized was not a mugger at all, but a hitman. "I'm Vinnie 'Italian Sausage' Fettucino, and this is my associate, Antonio 'The Anchovy' Mozzarelli."

"But…but…but _why?"_ Sirius said finally.

"Well, I'm the Anchovy because I don't smell too good, see," said the Anchovy, "and Vinnie here is called the 'Italian Sausage' because of his—"

"Not the nicknames," Sirius interrupted impatiently. "Why is there a Pizza Mafia?"

"There just _is_ , and only the business owners know about it," Regulus explained. "Now, Vinnie and Antonio, you're making a big mistake. I'm afraid I can't let you bring Papa Pepe my head on a silver pizza platter, nor in a takeout box."

"We ruled the pizza world of the British Isles before Emperor Deep Dish came along!" Vinnie growled, pointing his shotgun at Regulus again. "And now it's time to take him out so Papa Pepe can reclaim the throne!"

"Again," Regulus repeated, and strangely, he seemed much calmer now that he knew what was going on, "I can't let you do that."

"Oh yeah?" Vinnie jeered. Harry noticed both of them were around the same size as Regulus, but then, Regulus was no shrimp. True, he was a little shorter than Sirius, but he was still tall and just as well-built, like all the men in the Black family.

"Yeah," said Regulus, and (to Harry's shock) he socked Vinnie in the face once with his left hand, then again with his right. Antonio shouted with rage and started towards him, but Sirius, taking his cue, stuck out his leg and tripped him. Antonio fell flat on his face, with Vinnie shortly following. Sirius took out his wand and Stunned them both.

"That ought to do it," he said, grinning at Regulus.

"Reckon so," Regulus agreed, taking a small coin out of his shoe and handing it to Harry. "Will you find the nearest payphone and call the police, please, Harry? Papa Pepe's goons need to be put away."

"O-Okay," said Harry in shock. "Because, I mean…that was impressive."

"You think this is the _first_ time the Pizza Mafia has come after me?" said Regulus carelessly, as Sirius affectionately slung an arm around his brother's shoulders. "Like they say, Chicago does it better."

…

After the police came and got the Anchovy and Italian Sausage, Regulus drove Harry and Sirius back home. Harry noticed how not only were Sirius and Regulus talking to each other again, but it was as if nothing had happened at all. That seemed to make it all the more obvious that he didn't have a brother of his own.

"So, Harry, did I tell you the big news?" said Sirius suddenly.

"No! What is it?"

"Barbara and I have decided on House Four," Sirius replied. "You know, in Hogsmeade. The one where Barbara can get her big kitchen. You get your own bedroom, with a built-in bathroom."

"Really?" said Harry in shock. "That's great!"

"My lease is up on August 1, remember," Sirius continued. "So I'm going to Apparate there later tonight and sign the papers with Vlad. You can come, if you like…Barbara understands she can't. Even if she was a witch, it wouldn't be safe for her to Apparate."

"Sure," said Harry.

"We'd have to do the reno while we were living there, but I think we'd be okay," said Sirius thoughtfully. "However, we do need to get the baby room finished before she moves in, as it'll be a surprise."

"Can you do it in five days?" Regulus asked doubtfully.

"Were you going to help?" Sirius asked, answering a question with a question.

"Well, I could ask Andromeda to throw Barbara a baby shower," Regulus suggested. "You can get a lot of baby furniture and supplies that way. Then, when she gets all that stuff, we can furnish the baby room."

"Baby shower…" Harry remembered seeing one of those on _Love and Lust_. The only male at the party had been the baby inside the mother at the time. "That's when a bunch of women give the mother gifts, right?"

"Basically," said Regulus.

"Did my mother have a baby shower?"

"Of course," Sirius replied. "It was hosted by Marlene McKinnon, her maid-of-honor."

"I know that name from somewhere…McKinnon…" Regulus tapped his fingers on the steering wheel in thought. "Ah, yes! Wasn't she that blonde girl you used to sleep with?"

"We didn't just sleep together, Reg," said Sirius. "We dated on and off. What do you think I do, just sleep with the first floozy who comes along?"

"Well, yes," said Regulus. "Isn't that what happened with Barbara?"

"That was different," said Sirius loftily.

"Sure, but you can never be too careful," Regulus said darkly. "There's a waiter at one of my London restaurants who's only sixteen, but he's going to be a father—and I'm sorry, but he's the most accident-prone, incompetent, socially awkward waiter I've ever hired. The only reason he still has a job is because I just can't bring myself to throw him out on the street. Not when the baby's mother, who's a year younger, wants to stay home with the poor child."

"Wait a minute—wait a minute, now," said Sirius. "Is his name Dylan?"

"Why, yes, it is." Regulus stared. "How did you know?"

"If it's the same kid, he was at Barbara's childbirth class," Sirius explained. After a pause, he continued, "And it's not his baby."

"How do you know?" said Regulus, giving him a scrutinizing look.

"Well, one of the other dads-to-be approached me and asked what position I used to get Barbara pregnant, and—"

" _What?"_ said Regulus in disbelief. "I didn't know you talked about things like that at birthing class! I thought you talked about pushing and breathing and pain management techniques."

"We do, but we had some time to talk after class," Sirius explained. "And these were New Age guys, so they were really determined to share the details of their bodily functions and bedroom habits with me."

Regulus just stared.

"Like I said, one of them asked me what position Barbara and I used, and I told him it was none of his business, obviously," Sirius continued. "But then Dylan decided to share with us all the position _he_ used, and…let's just say he doesn't really know how baby-making works, I guess."

"Are you kidding me?" Regulus groaned. "Didn't you tell him?"

"I'm not going to explain _that_ to _him_ , are you crazy?!"

"No, I mean, did you tell him his girlfriend had been cheating on him?"

"Oh…yeah, but he wouldn't listen. He told me I was just jealous."

"Of what?" Harry cut in.

"You tell me," Sirius replied.

"The way he talks about her," Regulus said quietly, shaking his head, "you'd never know—"

"Yeah, it was kind of pathetic how he basically worshipped the ground she walked on," Sirius agreed. "In reality, he deserved better."

"I suppose I was right about him not being very smart, then," said Regulus finally.

Harry still hadn't quite moved on from the last bit.

"If Dylan doesn't know where babies come from, how'd they end up doing it?" he asked.

"That's just the point, Harry," said Regulus. "They didn't."

"But…but then…"

"Dylan couldn't possibly be the baby's father, because he put his penis in the wrong hole," said Sirius simply.

"Wh-wh…y…you mean like he _missed?"_ Harry bleated.

That had to be the most embarrassing thing in the world, he thought, being in bed with a girl for the first time and not knowing one part from another. Needing a guidebook or something.

"No, not even Dylan is _that_ stupid," said Sirius. "She put it in her mouth."

"In her _mouth?!"_

"Yeah, and it was no accident, either. She never even took her clothes off, he said, but he was imagining her in the shower."

"Sirius!" Regulus scolded. "That's enough!"

"Oh, like you've never imagined a girl in the shower, Reg?" said Sirius.

"I said that's enough!" Regulus repeated, but his cheeks were a little pink.

"Well, do you want Harry to end up like Dylan?" Sirius protested.

"No, but I don't want him fainting dead away in the backseat, either," said Regulus.

Sirius turned around in his seat and smiled at Harry.

"You're about as red as a fire engine," he said with a laugh. "James would have enjoyed you so much at this age, you know that? It's a good thing you've still got me and my brother."

"Oh, yeah," said Regulus sarcastically. "Great."

"Well, you're a consenting adult, Reg." Sirius grinned. "Has Holly stayed overnight at #12 Grimmauld Place yet?"

"No," Regulus replied, "because I don't believe a woman and man should spend the night together, much less share a bed, if they're not married."

"So you're a virgin, then," said Sirius, poking him.

"Not that it's any of your business," said Regulus, glaring, "but yes, I am."

"Okay, then, if a woman and a man are alone in a bedroom together," said Harry, "is there some kind of magnetic pull, so the only thing they can think of to do together is to shag?"

Regulus and Sirius both turned to look around at Harry (although Regulus had to turn around again, since he was driving).

"If you're on automatic or something, maybe," said Sirius finally. "But listen, Reg, Barbara's not my wife yet—and we don't regret anything we've done. Not at all."

"Sirius, I'm happy as anything to have Phoebe as a niece, but it doesn't always work that way," Regulus told him. "If Barbara had picked someone other than you, someone who wasn't as committed, it could have ended a lot differently."

"You don't say," Sirius muttered, and Harry knew he was thinking of Jackson, too.

"Speaking of Phoebe, Sirius," said Harry, "can Ron and Hermione help me decorate her room?"

"Oh…sure," said Sirius. "Why not?"

…

That night, Sirius used Side-Along Apparition to take Harry to Scotland, and while Sirius and Vlad talked real estate, Harry set out to explore the rest of the house.

When you first stepped inside, you saw the foyer and a powder room (Vlad explained to Harry that a "powder room" was a bathroom without a tub or shower) straight down the hall. The stairs going upstairs were to your right, and the door to the basement (which wasn't finished, but they were going to finish it) was adjacent to the powder room.

Once you walked past the powder room and the basement door, you entered a cozy little library with a fireplace, and if you turned left at the foyer, you could enter a huge dining room. If you went past the stairs on the right you would enter a small kitchen, and if you continued onwards, you would enter a drawing room of about the same size. Vlad's plan was to tear down the wall separating the drawing room and kitchen, so Barbara could have the big kitchen they wanted, and they could have open concept, too. They could also, perhaps, turn the big dining room into a drawing room, and combine the current drawing room and small kitchen to make one large open concept kitchen/dining room. Vlad discussed this with Sirius and Harry, his voice and face both alight with excitement.

When you went upstairs, on top of the landing was the master bathroom. It had a combination shower/tub, two sinks, two mirrors and one toilet. There was one bedroom on Harry's right, as well as another all the way down the hall. Each could comfortably fit a bed, a writing desk, a chest of drawers, and maybe an easy chair or something. They each had a walk-in closet. Harry checked out the master bedroom, which was a huge room. It was a lot like the other bedrooms he'd already seen, except big enough to accomodate two. There was a half-bathroom with a glass shower.

Harry figured one of the rooms on the right would belong to Phoebe, and the master bedroom would belong to Sirius and Barbara, and the other room on the right would be a guest room. But past the master bedroom, on the left, Harry found the bedroom he knew he wanted to be his.

It was like Phoebe's room and the guest room, except it had a half-bathroom and glass shower built in, like the master bathroom did. Harry had never had a walk-in closet before. He plotted out where he wanted his bed and other furniture to go, too. He was upset that his bedroom was farthest away from Phoebe's, but then, it wouldn't be so long of a walk. Harry decided changing Phoebe's diapers was above the call of duty, but he didn't have a problem feeding her a bottle or rocking her to sleep.

Harry's room had the best view. There was a huge backyard with a little clump of trees and even a small stream running through them. Since it was the middle of summer, the trees had big green leaves on them. It was night, so of course the sun wasn't shining, but it still looked nice. Harry's head filled with thoughts of a treehouse, a hammock, a swing set, and many happy days spent playing with Phoebe in the yard. He imagined Sirius running around and chasing her in his Animagus form, the way he did to Harry, or giving her rides. He imagined himself and Hermione pushing her on the swings. He imagined Sirius trying to build a treehouse. He imagined Barbara setting up a hammock between two trees. He imagined himself fastening a lacy little sunbonnet on a newborn Phoebe, holding her in his arms, and teaching her the names of all the plants, animals, and flowers. (Of course, he'd have to learn them himself, first.)

Harry decided he was going to make sure Phoebe had the best nursery in the history of all nurseries, and he would enlist Ron and Hermione's help. Most of all, August 1, move-in day, couldn't come soon enough.

…

The next day, Sirius told them all to wear their oldest clothes, because they'd be painting. Harry had decided to stop doing his hair the new way for now. He'd wear it like that to school, and definitely to special events like the wedding, but otherwise he didn't think it was necessary. After all, his friends seemed to like him regardless of how he wore his hair.

Harry, Ron, Hermione and Sirius all wore old, faded T-shirts and jeans. Sirius shrunk all the supplies and stuck them in his pocket.

"So where are you all going for the day?" Barbara asked. She was eating chocolate frosting straight out of the tub with a spoon, which was something Harry thought only Dudley did.

"Just doing some work on the new house," Sirius said casually. They couldn't be too specific with Barbara, because Phoebe's room was supposed to be a surprise. "I hope you're not angry, but the doctor said it would be dangerous for a pregnant lady to breathe in paint fumes, and that's what we're planning on doing."

"We're painting my room," Harry fibbed.

"I'm not angry," Barbara said with a smile. "I've got my icing and the TV."

Sirius had to use Side-Along Apparition with Harry and his friends, but since you could only do it with a maximum of two people, Sirius had to come back for one person. Harry volunteered to let Ron and Hermione go first. When Sirius came back for him, they made the journey there (Harry was getting a little bit used to it) and they arrived in front of the new house, slightly off Hogsmeade's High Street. Downtown, if you could call it that, was within walking distance, but not really visible from the house. Ron and Hermione were already waiting for them outside.

When they got inside the nursery, there was a lot to be done. Sirius had a book, which he said was something Mrs. Weasley had loaned him. It was an interior design book, and he had it open to the chapter on baby rooms.

"We're mostly just doing the painting and small decorating today, and we're setting up the crib," Sirius directed. "Barbara will get the rest of the furniture through her baby shower."

Sirius pulled the crib out of his pocket and started to set it up in the corner; Ron got to work painting the walls. Harry and Hermione started painting some wooden letters, carved earlier by Richard, Phoebe's great-grandfather. Hermione was painting the P, H, and O; Harry was painting the B and the two E's. They were painting them pink, white and red, to match the color scheme of Phoebe's room.

"There are six letters and three colors, so we'll have two red letters, two white letters, and two pink letters," Hermione told Harry. "We can each paint one, or paint more than one. What do you want to do?"

"I guess we could each paint one," said Harry. "It would be easier that way."

They decided to paint the P and the first E red, the H and the B pink, and the O and the second E white. Harry grabbed the B and started painting it pink.

"What do you suppose Phoebe will look like?" said Hermione conversationally, holding her wooden O and painting it white.

"Well, she'll look like a mix of Sirius and Barbara, won't she?"

"Not necessarily," said Hermione. "She could have the eyes of a distant family member, not gray like Sirius's or hazel like Barbara's. She could have blonde hair like Mrs. Malfoy or brown like Andromeda. She could resemble one of them a lot more than Barbara. Or she could get a mutation, even, and have an eye or hair color that doesn't run in the family. I have a baby cousin with green eyes, even though everyone in my family has brown eyes."

"Wow," said Harry. "How d'you know that?"

"We learned it in Advanced Science back in Muggle primary school," said Hermione with a shrug. "We did Punnett squares and stuff. That's a way to tell what a baby's going to look like. And not just a human baby—an animal baby, or even a plant. It's how evolution works."

"In our class we learned about The Human Body," said Harry. "We learned about the cardiovascular system, the brain, and the nervous system. We learned that the body has electricity in it and stuff."

"What else?"

"We had to learn all the organs inside a frog," Harry told her, remembering. "The teacher gave us a worksheet where we had to fill out all the names."

"I'm glad I went to Hogwarts instead of Muggle secondary school," Hermione told him. "Because in Muggle secondary school, they actually make you dissect the frog."

"Gross," said Harry.

"I was worst at gym," Hermione said, laughing. "It was so stupid. There was a lady at a piano, and she made us leap around the room flapping our arms in time to the music. We only played team sports when we did coed gym, which wasn't a lot."

"They always made us play team sports, mostly soccer and baseball," said Harry. "I always got picked last."

"So did I," said Hermione with a smile. "I guess we're two of a kind."

Their eyes met, and Harry smiled back at her. She put her hand on top of his for a moment, patted it, and gave it a squeeze.

Once they were done painting the letters, Harry went to help Ron paint the walls. Hermione made Phoebe's bed, with the mattress, pillow and blankets, plus the patchwork quilt her great-grandmother had just finished. Sirius stood on a stool and put the drapes on the windows.

"So, Ron," said Harry, lowering his voice so Sirius and Hermione couldn't hear. "Guess what Sirius said in the car the other day."

"What?"

Harry told Ron what Dylan had done with Ashley.

"I know," said Ron. "It's called a blow job."

"How would you know?" said Harry.

"Charlie's old issues of _Witches and Broomsticks,"_ Ron said knowingly.

"Broomsticks is a metaphor, isn't it?" Harry asked him.

"Yeah, but it's mostly the witches you focus on," Ron told him. "And best of all, if you've got a question that's too embarrassing to ask, you can get the answer from those kinds of magazines."

"For example?"

"Well, the adults tell you what goes where, but they don't tell you what it's _really_ like," Ron explained.

"You can find that out just by looking at pictures in a magazine?"

"Obviously, you haven't seen the pictures," said Ron. "Not only that, but you get to find out what real breasts look like. I mean, you haven't seen Barbara naked or anything, have you?"

"No!" Harry said in shock. "Of course not!"

"Well, there you are," said Ron. "How else will you find out?"

"I don't know," Harry told him. "Sirius bought a Muggle women's magazine once, and they had a lot of instructional pictures. They were just drawings, though, and not very detailed."

"But women don't even _do_ anything! The guy does all the work! Why do they need _instructions?"_

"Why are you asking _me?"_ said Harry. "I don't know any more about it than you do! Go buy a Muggle women's magazine if you're so curious."

"Then that will explain everything, right?"

"Or raise more questions than it answers, more like."

They both sighed.

"Harry! Ron!"

They were interrupted by Hermione's voice from the other side of the room.

"Yes?" said Harry, walking over to her, Ron following close behind. She was standing by the crib.

"Do you like it?" she asked brightly.

Phoebe's crib was wooden, of course, made out of trees on Richard's farm. Made with love, not magic. But Hermione was gesturing to the inside, where she had made Phoebe's bed. She had placed the mattress inside, and added blankets and a pink pillow, on which the word _Phoebe_ was embroidered in script. Folded underneath the pillow was Phoebe's patchwork quilt.

"Yeah, I love it!" said Harry.

"Good job," Ron agreed.

"I'm going to add a mobile," Sirius added. "Some stuffed animals, too. But for now, we've got to glue the letters on the wall."

Harry, Ron and Hermione slathered glue onto the backs of the letters, and Sirius stuck them to the wall. Hermione suggested a Permanent Sticking Charm, but Sirius said they probably shouldn't, because when Phoebe got older, she might want to change the design of her room.

They got a lot done that day. Most of the walls were painted, Sirius put up the drapes and the crib, Hermione made Phoebe's bed, and Phoebe's name was right above the crib. They needed to get a mobile and some stuffed animals, and more furniture, like a chest of drawers, a rocking chair, a changing table, and some clothes. Hopefully they could get those at the baby shower, and the rest of the furnishing would be done by move-in day. It was a race against time.

 **TO BE CONTINUED…**


	21. The Best Birthday Present

The next day, the twenty-sixth, Sirius, Harry and Barbara were sitting in the flat, watching _Love and Lust_ on TV again. It was an incredibly hot day, and the air conditioning was blasting. On the show, one of the main characters was going on a blind date, which was going horribly.

"Did you know, I used to get all my dating advice from shows like these?" said Barbara with a grin. "No wonder I never had a relationship that lasted for very long."

"It's probably not a good idea," Sirius agreed. "This is more of a what _not_ to do."

The character was starting to cry over her ex-boyfriend, and her date looked incredibly uncomfortable.

"At least I didn't do that," said Barbara.

That was when the phone rang. Harry was hoping it was Hermione, calling to watch the show ironically with him, so he picked it up quickly on the first ring—the hell with that magazine's advice about picking up on the second ring.

"Hello?" he said eagerly.

"Why, Mr. Potter," said a vaguely familiar voice on the phone. "How nice to hear your voice. How are you?"

Harry tried to remember how you figured out who was on the phone without asking them when they obviously remembered you.

"I'm fine," he said. "Uh…is this call for me?"

"Well, it's for all of you, isn't it?" said the caller. "Why don't you put me on speakerphone, Mr. Potter, and I can speak to your godfather as well? Is Barbara there?"

"Yeah." Harry turned on the speakerphone and said, a little artificially, "Look who's on the phone!"

"Who?" said Barbara, looking around.

"Barbara, honey," said the caller. "How _are_ you? We've missed you so, here around Bunsen and Barnes."

Then Harry knew. It was Mr. Glacier!

"Oh, I've missed you, too, Mr. Glacier!" she said, muting the TV and leaning over the back of the couch. "I'm _super_ pregnant! You can meet the baby once she's born, if you want!"

"I'd love to," Mr. Glacier told her. "When are you due?"

"September," she said brightly. "We're moving to Scotland, so we can be near the school where Siri teaches, but I can always come back to visit."

"Please do," said Mr. Glacier. "Anyway, I suppose you're wondering why I'm calling?"

"Sure," said Sirius.

"Well, I just wanted to remind you, Mr. Potter, that your aunt and uncle are still in jail, and we need a day in court to send them to prison officially," said Mr. Glacier seriously. "If it's convenient for you, I can schedule the date for July 30, and I'll give you a call later about the hour."

"O-Okay," said Harry in surprise. The sooner the Dursleys were in prison, he supposed, the better, but the truth was, it seemed like their lawsuit last summer with Mrs. Figg and her cats turning up in the courtroom with the police had been the end of an era. He had a godfather, a godmother-in-law (if that was a thing), a baby sister, two best friends, a girlfriend, and he'd be living in a house in Hogsmeade. It was almost as if he could no longer relate to his old self, a lonely boy with no friends or any real family, and he didn't even know if that was good or bad.

"I think we're free that day," said Sirius.

Once that had been arranged, they watched the show again until the ad break came on. Sirius was getting snacks in the kitchen, and Barbara was in the bathroom yet again, when the phone rang for the second time. Harry still hoped it was Hermione.

"Hello?" he asked.

"Why, hello again, Harry." It was a grown woman; sweet, low and gentle, her voice reminded Harry of a hummed lullaby. "Is Barbara there?"

"Uh, she's in the bathroom," Harry told the caller, "for the third time this hour."

"Ah, yes, I remember being pregnant." She laughed. "Going to the bathroom is what pregnant women do, Harry."

"Who is this?" Harry asked.

"It's Sirius's very own cousin, Andromeda," she said. "I was wondering how Barbara might feel about a baby shower."

And then Harry knew Regulus had already talked to her about it. Maybe Sirius was right about Andromeda being very neat and particular.

"You can tell your girlfriend, Hermione, that she's invited, too," Andromeda continued.

"Who's on the phone, Harry?" Sirius called from the kitchen.

"It's Andromeda!" Harry shouted to him. "She wants to throw a baby shower for Barbara! Is that okay?"

"Baby shower?" came Barbara's voice from the bathroom, and then, "Sirius!"

"Blast it!" said Sirius, heading for Barbara's bathroom. "Not again."

"Let me guess," said Andromeda, still laughing. "He needs to help her off the toilet?"

"How did _you_ know that?" asked Harry.

"Like I said, _I_ was pregnant once, with my Nymphadora," she told him.

"But I thought she likes—"

"I don't care _what_ she likes people to call her," said Andromeda, cutting him off. "I spent twelve hours in labor with her and I think it's a lovely name."

Harry didn't know what to say to that, and Andromeda just laughed again. One thing Harry noticed was that she laughed a lot.

Once Sirius had hoisted Barbara off the toilet, and the two of them were out of the bathroom, Harry pressed the speakerphone button and they all talked to Andromeda. Sirius seemed glad to hear from his favorite cousin.

"Andromeda," he said affectionately. "When did you learn to use the phone?"

"Probably before you did," she joked. "Ted taught me."

"Definitely before he did, then," Harry told her. " _I_ taught Sirius—and I taught him about the TV, too."

"Nice," she said. "Anyway, is there any particular day that would be convenient for you, Barbara? For the baby shower?"

"Sure…July 30, I guess," Barbara replied. Harry wondered if she was trying to get out of the court date, or if she'd simply assumed she wasn't invited. Probably both.

"Very well!" Andromeda said brightly. "July 30 it is. All the bridesmaids will be there, honey, and—"

"Are you planning on inviting Narcissa?" Sirius interrupted.

"Well…I don't see why it would matter to you," Andromeda said slowly. "I mean, it's not like you're going to be there, are you?"

"No," said Sirius, "but—"

"Look, Sirius, I'd feel terrible if I didn't." Andromeda's voice had taken on a pleading note. "She _is_ my sister, after all…"

"Did she invite you to the baby shower for _her_ little brat?"

"Well, no, but—"

"And did she come to the shower for Tonks?"

" _No_ , but—"

"There you are," said Sirius. "She probably wouldn't want to come, anyway, because Barbara's a Muggle."

"I don't care," Andromeda told him. "Because…well, because I _want_ her there, that's all. It's hard to be the odd one out, when your older and younger sisters get along, and then you're the one stuck in the middle, left out in the cold. I was always a little jealous of the way she and Bella were close and I was like the runt…and I always hoped that as adults we could put all that behind us. I guess I can safely give up on Bella, but 'Cissa…"

Andromeda's voice quavered on the last word. There was a half a minute long silence. Harry could see that Sirius was deep in thought, and he thought he knew what his godfather was thinking—both of them, Sirius and Harry, knew what it was like to be the one the adults didn't favor. But what was it like when your own _siblings_ abandoned you and hung out with each other instead? Being the third wheel? Finally, Sirius sighed.

"I understand," he told her. "Go ahead and invite her. I can't promise she'll come, but it's good of you to make the first move."

"Thanks, Sirius," she replied. "I don't know what I'd do if it weren't for you…I _am_ looking forward to having another little girl to spoil, you know."

"Hopefully, though, one not quite as rebellious as Tonks was growing up," Sirius joked.

"Phoebe is Sirius's daughter," said Harry. "If she's anything like her dad, she'll be the most rebellious baby ever."

…

Somehow, Harry found he wasn't as nervous for the court date as he had been last year, the original _Potter vs. Dursley_. Maybe it was because he knew he wouldn't be sent back to them, or maybe it had something to do with seeing Dudley, reduced to stocking shelves in the grocery store. Or maybe it was because this court date wasn't preceded by a psychiatric exam and a couple of days' hospitalization. Harry figured they would see Dr. Grant eventually, and he didn't mind her; she was kind of…mommish, more so than Barbara, at least, which just made him feel at home. He did hope they wouldn't have to visit Dr. Stefansen, though.

It had really been the custody court date he'd been scared of. He was sure there would be some mix-up and he'd be returned to the Dursleys to stay there for the rest of his natural life. The custody battle had been on his eleventh birthday, he also remembered; it had been so weird turning from ten to eleven. He remembered wondering if, six years from now, he would be waiting for the clock to turn him into an adult wizard. Before the clock struck midnight, he was a kid; after, he wasn't.

Either way, either on top of his old worries or in place of them, new ones had arrived; he knew he wasn't going to be sent back to the Dursleys, but he figured maybe there was something about having a magic gene that deprived you of empathy, because most kids at Hogwarts, especially the underclassmen, were ignorant sheep at best, downright cruel at worst. In his Muggle primary school, Harry had been teased for things like his poorly-fitting clothing and his hair and his "mean, runty look," but never the fact that he had no parents.

These people, even the adults, saw nothing rude or inconsiderate about whispering as he walked by, or standing up to look at him, or even (in Mr. Ollivander's case) grabbing him by the arm and running a finger up and down his scar, then telling him Voldemort's acts were "great." Oh well, at least Sirius had called him out on it. But if word got around school that Harry was a Parselmouth, the kids would be merciless.

So the next few days passed pretty much uneventfully. Ron and Hermione came over almost every day. Barbara complained about being pregnant a lot, although she had gone to a department store and made a baby registry so everyone would know what to buy her (next up would be the wedding registry, Harry supposed). Reno on the Hogsmeade house was going full-swing now that they'd bought it. When the court date approached, it was less "Oh, God, oh God" and more "Meh."

Harry did his hair that day, but it was more to keep his skills from getting rusty than to look good for the stupid Dursleys. He didn't even care anymore. Sirius still washed his hair and had a fresh shave, though.

"Last year, before the custody battle, you asked me if it hurt to shave," said Sirius, grinning as he ran the razor blade through the shaving cream. "And then I told you the story of Regulus slicing his fingers open on the razor blade when he wasn't given permission to shave yet. Remember?"

"Vaguely," Harry said.

"You know, that was the story of the stupidest breakup I ever had," Sirius told him. "Over shaving, in sixth year. This girl, Lorraine or something, she didn't shave anything. I know I'm not really supposed to care, but it was kind of a turn-off. Hairy pits I can deal with, I guess, but the legs and the chest—"

"Wait, a _girl_ with a hairy chest? That's gross."

"Yes…But then she said she wanted _me_ to shave _my_ legs, chest and pits every week at least, and my face every day," Sirius told him. "Maybe wax my eyebrows, too. That's where I drew the line."

Harry wasn't going to ask about Barbara, because he already knew anyway. After all, it was only until recently that he thought women needed to shave at all, and that was because Barbara got rid of everything except the hair on her head, even during pregnancy.

"Do you remember how I was still living in my old studio, where the hallway reeked of cigarette smoke?" Sirius continued. "And there was only one bed, and the kitchen floor was all sticky, and Barbara was still a secretary—and had you even gotten your Hogwarts letter by then? Didn't you have the flu or something?"

"I got my letter after I got the flu, but I think before the court date." Harry grinned. "Why do you ask? Are you feeling nostalgic?"

"Maybe a bit." Sirius shrugged and rinsed his face. "Either way, the letter with all the information about second year will come any day now, maybe even tomorrow—your birthday."

Harry had to admit, he was excited about his birthday. He didn't know what the age was when you were supposed to stop expecting people to make a big deal out of your birthday, but since he couldn't remember his first birthday, and birthdays two through ten had been ignored completely, Harry figured making a fuss about eleven and now twelve wouldn't be that bad.

…

The best birthday present, Harry supposed, would be getting the Dursleys locked up for good. Harry and Sirius wore suits and ties, and Apparated to the courthouse. Harry was getting used to it, and he figured that by the time he was old enough, he'd probably be doing it on his own. He couldn't believe that when he had first done Side-Along Apparition, last summer, he'd thrown up.

They arrived a relatively safe distance away from the courthouse, so nobody would see them appear out of thin air. When the big building came into view, the Dursleys weren't there yet, or maybe they were just inside, but Mr. Glacier, Dr. Grant and Dr. Stefansen were still milling around outside.

"Good, you're here," Mr. Glacier said genially, shaking Harry's hand and then Sirius's. "Send Barbara my love, will you?"

"Absolutely," said Sirius, and he didn't seem threatened by the word "love," either. Harry figured Mr. Glacier probably loved Barbara like a granddaughter, and that was what he meant. Anything other than that would be a little creepy; Mr. Glacier had been practicing law for twice as long as Barbara had been alive.

"It's wonderful to see you, Harry, dear," Dr. Grant added, giving Harry a hug. Appearance-wise, she hadn't changed much since last summer (Harry was hoping she wouldn't say the same thing about him). She was wearing a black pantsuit with black heels, and her hair was fluffed up with the hairdryer, the way Barbara did it. "How _are_ you?"

"Fine, just fine," he said. "Dr. Stefansen?"

"Mr. Potter, Mr. Black," he said seriously, bowing to them each in turn.

"Now, you do know you have to testify, Mr. Potter," Mr. Glacier said seriously.

"Oh…yeah," said Harry, feeling nervous for the first time since he'd heard about the trial. Public speaking had never been one of his favorite activities.

"Listen," Mr. Glacier said. "I'm a lawyer, as you know…But did you know that I used to have the greatest fear of public speaking?"

"You? No way." Harry shook his head. "You're a natural."

"Not so," Mr. Glacier replied. "In fact, I used to be terrified. But then somebody told me that it's really the audience who's scared of you. They're scared you'll be boring, or that they won't be able to understand you. It is simply your job to get rid of _their_ fear. Anyone who's ever been to a boring school assembly or taken a confusing class at school can attest to that. And when I heard it, I just got over my fear. It gave me the power I needed to have self-confidence, and once I had self-confidence, public speaking was easy."

There was that word again, _self_ - _confidence_. To hear Sirius and now Mr. Glacier tell it, if a guy had self-confidence, he could accomplish absolutely anything he put his mind to.

The courthouse bell clanged. It was time to go inside.

Harry was surprised to see the Dursleys. Aunt Petunia's hair had been cut short like a man's, just like Laurel the businesswoman from Regulus's matchmaking session. Uncle Vernon was bald, and The Mustache was gone. They were both wearing bright-orange prison uniforms and they were both handcuffed.

"Their hair is gone!" Harry hissed.

"Yes," said Mr. Glacier. "They do that in prison, to prevent lice."

Harry could understand that; there had been a lice outbreak in primary school when he was in third grade, and it had practically shut down the whole school. If one kid got it, every kid could. But then Harry thought of Sirius, who had been allowed to keep his long hair in prison.

"Did you have lice in prison, Sirius?" he wanted to know.

"Yeah," said Sirius. "Little itchy crawling things everywhere. In your hair and in your clothes, all the time. They didn't care."

Mr. Glacier looked appalled.

"What prison _is_ this?" he demanded. "It needs to be shut down. Everything about it is against the laws of cruel and unusual punishment."

"It doesn't matter, Mr. Glacier," Sirius said solemnly. "I do appreciate it, but not today."

Anyway, they had called people in to testify. Dr. Grant's statements, and Dr. Stefansen's, were pretty much the same from last summer's. It made Harry realize how much he had really changed as a person. Whatever Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia thought, they weren't looking at the same scared little boy Harry once was. He barely even listened, although he knew their words must have been powerful, because many in the audience were weeping, dabbing at their eyes with tissues. Sirius's eyes were fixated on the Dursleys, and if looks could kill, they would be _el muerto_.Harry knew they were going to prison; everyone knew it. This was just the formal trial. This time, though, Mrs. Figg had to testify, and so did Harry.

"I spent a lot of time babysitting Harry over the years," Mrs. Figg said. (Harry wished she hadn't chosen the word "babysitting," since twelve was old enough to _be_ a babysitter.) "I had to bore Harry by showing him pictures of my cats, because if he had a good time at my house, the Dursleys would never let him come back. They left him home with me when he should have been having fun with them on vacation. I deeply regret that I didn't contact child services earlier. I didn't know they were keeping him in a cupboard, though."

"Very well," said the judge. "The prosecution calls Mr. Potter himself to the stand."

Harry felt his heart rate pick up again as he walked to the soapbox. _Boom, boom, boom_ , _boom_. Mr. Glacier said the audience was afraid of him, but he wasn't buying it for a minute.

"H-Hello," he said, along with the worst voice crack in history, it seemed, exaggerated by the way it echoed around the entire courtroom. How humiliating…But that could happen when he was nervous, he knew, so he just tried to ignore it and cleared his throat. "I-I lived with the Dursleys for…for many years, and…um…"

What was he supposed to say _now_ , for Heaven's sake? _They locked me up and were really mean to me all the time?_ That sounded so stupid. Everything he thought of sounded stupid. He had started his testification with "Hello," for crying out loud. Who _did_ that? And what could he say that Dr. Stefansen and Dr. Grant and Mr. Glacier and Sirius and Mrs. Figg and all the others hadn't already said? Why did they need to hear it from _him?_ Because they thought all the others were lying? Harry pulled on his tie, which was driving him crazy in this heat. Everyone was staring, waiting for him to finish. It was one thing to hear people you knew talk about your terrible experiences, but another to do it yourself in front of all these people…but Harry didn't want people thinking he was too emotionally damaged to speak about it. He had to say _something_.

"I just wanted to be treated as well as my cousin, but they really hated me," Harry said finally. "Looking back, I think I have more self-confidence now than I did last summer." _Oh my God, you did not just SAY that_. "But self-confidence can be hard to come by when you were deprived of the Critical Love Stage, like Dr. Stefansen talked about."

Dr. Stefansen was nodding knowingly in the audience.

"Bottom line, it's not just me," Harry said. "No kid should have to be treated that way. People who treat their kids like they treat me shouldn't be at large. They belong in prison, where they can suffer for harming someone forever."

Harry didn't want people to think he was "harmed forever," because that sounded kind of dramatic, but he seemed to have chosen the right words. Even though they sounded corny to him, many more audience members were teary-eyed. They all stood up and clapped. Sirius smiled slightly and gestured for Harry to step down from the soapbox, so he did. Harry collapsed into his seat next to Sirius.

"Good job," Sirius whispered.

"I don't think so," Harry whispered back, still feeling sweaty.

"They do." Sirius pointed around the courtroom. Even the judge dabbed at her eyes.

"Unanimous decision by the jury," she said, slamming down her gavel. "Mr. and Mrs. Dursley are sentenced to twenty years each in federal prison."

Harry figured they weren't going to get life; that was probably a little unrealistic. But they also could have gotten away with just ten years. And when they were released, they wouldn't have any money, and Dudley would be thirty-two, out of foster care but probably alone, it would be hard for them to get jobs, and Uncle Vernon would have to start growing his mustache all over again.


	22. Twelve

When they got home, Barbara's baby shower guests had cleared out, but she was surrounded by new baby stuff—a rocking chair, a chest of drawers, a lamp, a diaper bin and so many diapers. Barbara hadn't registered for baby clothes, because she wanted to buy those herself. Barbara would always jump at the chance to go shopping, even though in this case it was metaphorical, because she was far too pregnant to actually jump. She could barely even walk.

"I suppose the baby shower was a success," Sirius said as he shut the door of the flat.

"Totally!" Barbara beamed. "I didn't register for a crib, since you told me we'd be shopping for one together once we moved into the new house."

"That's right," Sirius replied. Harry saw him cross his fingers behind his back.

"My mother got me a breast pump, even though I didn't register for one," Barbara continued.

Harry didn't even want to ask, but his facial expression must have told Barbara all she needed to know.

"I had no clue what it was at first either, but then my mother told me I could use it to pump my breast milk into bottles," Barbara explained. "I'm going to do it before Phoebe is born, so we have a big stockpile of milk. Also, so my breasts stop leaking."

"That must be annoying," said Sirius, sitting down next to her.

"You couldn't imagine," she replied. "Anyway, how was the trial?"

"Fine," said Harry. "They didn't go to prison for life, but we didn't expect them to."

"They should have!" Barbara said furiously, and Harry felt grateful to her.

"People usually only get sentenced to life when they commit murder or rape," Sirius said, sitting down beside her on the couch. "Or, in the Wizarding world, if you're a practicing Dark wizard, that can get you life, too. They take Dark Magic very seriously."

"Good," said Barbara, cuddling into Sirius's shoulder and touching his face. "It's a shame you had to shave for the day, isn't it?"

"You do prefer me unshaven, don't you?" said Sirius.

"I love it." Barbara slowly traced the outline of Sirius's jaw with one finger; he was getting a five o'clock shadow. Her nails were about the same color as Tonks's hair. "I love how rough your chin is when I touch it."

"You know, that reminds me," said Sirius. "I was just telling Harry earlier this morning about the dumbest breakup I ever had. The girl and I both thought the other was too hairy."

"Sirius said she had a hairy chest," Harry added.

"That's disgusting," said Barbara. "If I had a hairy chest, I don't know _what_ I would do. And why would you ask a guy to shave his body hair? I never saw the point of manscaping. When it comes to men, the hairier the better—well, except I don't really like back hair. But other than that, it's like I said at your brother's house, Sirius. It's a sign of virility."

"What is that, anyway?" said Harry.

"Manliness," Sirius replied (a little proudly, if Harry wasn't imagining it). Barbara giggled.

"Siri _is_ virile," she said. "I like that a lot. If I wanted to date someone feminine, I would become a lesbian."

"You've got enough femininity for both of us," Sirius said fondly, stroking her hair, over a foot of long, thick dark curls spilling down her back, even thicker since he'd gotten her pregnant. Maybe that was why men liked pregnant women so much, Harry thought; it made them seem more feminine somehow, doing something men couldn't do.

"Thank you," she said, examining her bright pink nails.

"Anyway, Harry…" Sirius smiled. "I figured now that the court stuff is done, we might start planning your birthday. What do you want to do?"

Harry thought about it. Last year, there had been a court date on his birthday, so they had celebrated early on July 30. They went to Crescent Cottage, where Remus lived, and had a surprise party there. Harry didn't really want a surprise party again, though.

"How do you think Regulus would feel about another free pizza dinner?" he asked. "And maybe I could have Ron and Hermione over in the day for a small party. I'd like a cake…"

"I'll bake you one," Barbara offered.

"Sounds good," said Harry.

…

They had a few hours left in the day, so they spent it arranging the baby furniture in Phoebe's bedroom. Sirius told Barbara the furniture was magically shrunk and put in the closet and that was why she couldn't see it. They enlisted Regulus, who told them he would be more than happy to give Harry a free pizza dinner.

They'd already painted the walls, set up the crib (stripped down to the mattress and blanket), hung up the drapes and added wall décor, so the furniture was the only thing really missing—besides the baby, of course. It didn't take very long, because Regulus and Sirius used their wands to levitate the furniture, making it easy to move. Harry was the one who fixed Phoebe's mobile to the ceiling, on top of an A-frame ladder Sirius had conjured. He hoped every time she would look up at it, she would laugh, and her eyes would be filled with light. But he didn't say it, because he thought it would sound too cheesy.

Move-In Day was August 1, the day after tomorrow. They would be living in an empty house for a bit, Sirius said, because they wouldn't have time to move everything and set everything up all in one day. Until the bedrooms were organized, he said, they could sleep in sleeping bags in the drawing room, which sounded fun, especially if there was popcorn and a TV.

That night, Harry didn't stay awake staring at the clock. Last year, it had been the night before a court date that terrified him. It was also the birthday of his transition into the tween years. That was why, as Barbara said, eleven was a big deal. But twelve wasn't really anything special. He certainly wasn't a child, but neither was he a hairy sixth-year whose girlfriend was trying to force him to "manscape."

In fact, he thought, as he caught sight of himself in his mirror wearing just his jeans and Gryffindor socks the next morning, there really wasn't anything to shave. He definitely couldn't shave his face, which was about as smooth as a baby's bottom, and there was no chest hair or armpit hair or anything. He lifted his arm up. Not even a tiny bit. If he was going to grow body hair, that was probably the first place it would be, right?

Harry was pretty sure he had grown taller, a couple inches, maybe. But other than that, he didn't think he really looked much different than he did last birthday. He didn't know if he _felt_ different; maybe he did for Hermione. But he didn't know what that had to do with anything.

The only things Harry had ever really known for sure about going through puberty was that his voice would drop and he'd get more body hair. But neither of those things had really happened. So that was why he found himself wondering, on the morning of his twelfth birthday, if a woman would ever call _him_ "virile." If he would ever…well, he wasn't sure _what_ the word was. Develop? Blossom? Mature? Grow up?

Feeling his heart sink a little, he thought this was the sort of thing he would ask his father, if he was alive. Because whenever those things happened to James, that was when they would happen to Harry, right? Had James ever been a short, skinny boy like Harry? On _his_ twelfth birthday, had _he_ stood in front of the mirror, holding up _his_ arms to see if there was any hair underneath them yet? Now that he was dead, Harry couldn't ask him.

"Are you ready yet, Harry?" Sirius was knocking on the door.

Harry paused. Could he ask _Sirius?_ No, it would be too embarrassing. Sirius said Harry could ask him anything he could have asked James…but not this. It just sounded stupid. Maybe Sirius would just laugh. And if he didn't, would he even know the answer?

"Almost," Harry called.

Harry was having his birthday today, so he changed out of his light jeans and put on his dark-wash ones, since Sirius said dark-wash was more "formal." For a shirt, he chose his white button-down and rolled down the sleeves so he wouldn't get overheated, then carelessly ran a comb through his hair.

"Ron's on the phone," Sirius told him, when he stepped out of his room and into the living room.

"Since when could Ron use a phone?"

"Ask him yourself," said Sirius with a smile.

"Hey, Ron," said Harry, taking the phone from Sirius. "You can use the phone now?"

"Yeah," came Ron's voice on the line. "Dad showed me. We practiced a few times when it wasn't plugged in, and he told me not to shout."

"That's how I did it when I taught Sirius," said Harry. "It's a useful skill to have."

"And pretty easy once you get the hang of it," Ron added.

Harry took the phone into his bedroom and lay on his stomach.

"So what's up?" he said.

"Nothing," said Ron. "Total chaos, as usual."

"Total chaos?"

"I have a big family, remember?" he said. "It kind of comes with the package."

"Oh," said Harry. "Nothing's new with me, either. Barbara's still pregnant, Sirius is still virile..."

"He's what?"

"Never mind."

"Whatever," said Ron. "Anyway, I was just calling to say Happy Birthday. I didn't forget."

"Thanks, I know you didn't," said Harry. "Are you coming over today, then?"

" _Could_ I?"

"Sure."

"Okay, I'll tell Mum to make her cheesy casserole," Ron told him. Harry was glad to hear this; he'd had Mrs. Weasley's cheesy casserole at Regulus's party, and it was very tasty.

There was a pause, then Harry said, "Ron, can I ask you something?"

"Um, sure."

"If you had a question about…about puberty, who would you ask?"

There was a long silence, and then, "What's the question?"

"What difference does _that_ make?"

"Because, I mean, I guess I could always ask Dad," Ron told him. "But, you know, if it was embarrassing, I might not."

"It's a question about puberty," said Harry. "Isn't that always embarrassing?"

"Well…yeah, probably," said Ron. "Adults _say_ you can ask them anything—but you really can't, can you?"

"No, guess not…"

Harry sighed. Why had he thought asking Ron about it would help? Since he didn't have anything else to say, he dropped the subject and told Ron about the baby shower instead.

"My mum was at that baby shower," said Ron. "She was the one who brought the diapers and the diaper pail."

"Useful," said Harry. "Hang on…there's the call waiting."

"Bet it's Hermione," said Ron. "I'll hang up. Mum probably wants me to help with the cheesy casserole."

Ron hung up, and Harry took the call. Sure enough, it was Hermione. Harry smiled and felt that familiar stomach swooping feeling.

"Happy Birthday, Harry," she said brightly. "How are you?"

"Fine," said Harry. "Er…how was the baby shower?"

"It was nice," Hermione replied. "I brought the mobile, because I remembered how we talked about it designing the nursery. Did you get it set up yet?"

"Yeah," said Harry. "I'm sure she'll think of you every time she sees it."

"I just hope she knows my voice." Hermione sighed happily. "I can't wait to hold her. Imagine when she gets a little older and we can practice magic with her. She'll be so lucky. You and I didn't get to practice at all growing up."

"Well, we did accidentally," Harry reminded her, and told her the story of how his hair grew back all in one night.

"That's so funny," said Hermione. "I was always doing stuff like that when I was younger. I even learned to control it a little, sometimes, but I never did it at school because I thought people would think I was a freak."

"You aren't," Harry told her. "That's a horrible thing to say."

"Well, some people are horrible," she said. "I should think you would know that better than anyone."

"Yeah," said Harry. "I was just thinking about that the other day. What makes magical kids so cruel? They were never that mean in my Muggle school."

"My mum says lots of kids are mean, whether they're Muggles or magical," Hermione said with a sigh. "She said it's because they don't fully understand the consequences of their actions."

"As if," said Harry. "Malfoy understands the consequences of his actions, he just doesn't care."

"Sometimes I don't think my mother understands, either, though," Hermione told him. "Like she forgot what it was like to be our age. And she was always trying to get me to be more 'social,' too. She had lots of friends when she was in grade school, and she couldn't really understand why I couldn't make them, too."

"I know what you mean," Harry said. "I can't imagine Sirius ever being awkward and embarrassing himself like we sometimes do."

"Or having problems with his hair," said Hermione with a laugh.

"Both of my parents sounded like perfect people, the way he tells it," Harry said, feeling a little downcast. "I don't know how I ended up the way I did."

"Well, maybe it doesn't matter," said Hermione. "Because I think you ended up just fine."

"Oh…wow, thanks, Hermione," Harry told her, pleased, but glad she couldn't see how red his face had just gotten. "I-I like you the way you are, too."

"Thanks," she said, and things were quiet for a bit.

"So, uh…are you coming to my birthday, then?" Harry finally asked, to break the ringing silence. "Ron is. We're not having a party, but we are having a sort of…gathering, I guess."

"Of course," she said. "I'll see you in a couple hours?"

"Definitely," Harry replied.

Right now, Harry was thinking of how to end the phone conversation. Barbara and Sirius ended their phone calls with a "Love you" and "Love you too" that sounded almost automatic. But somehow that didn't seem right. So he just used a regular "bye."

"Bye," Hermione replied, and hung up.

After the phone call ended, Harry realized he hadn't brushed his teeth. He didn't think they would kiss, but if they _did_ , he wanted to prepared, and even if they didn't, he would still probably be breathing in her direction.

As Harry was looking in the bathroom mirror, he realized he had also forgotten to wash and style his hair, and he should probably take a shower anyway, considering he was having his birthday party and then going out to dinner. By the time he was out of the shower and wrapped in his emerald-green fluffy dressing gown, wrapping a towel around his hair the way he'd seen Sirius and Barbara do, he heard a knock on the front door, then someone entering the apartment. He froze, his hands flat on the granite sink.

 _No, not Hermione! Please not Hermione!_ Harry thought. What could be worse than having your girlfriend drop by when you had just stepped out of the shower, wearing nothing but a dressing gown and a towel wrapped around your head like a turban? Why hadn't he told her to come _later?_ But then the person spoke, and luckily it was just Ron.

"Harry?" he called. "Where are you?"

"I'm doing my hair," Harry shouted back. Well, _that_ sounded weird.

"Can I come in?"

"Sure."

Harry unlocked the door and Ron shuffled in, holding a small wrapped present.

"Happy Birthday," said Ron. "Why are you wearing a towel on your head?"

"Sirius does it," Harry told him, shrugging. "And he showed me how to fix my hair."

"If you say so, but it looks kind of girly," said Ron.

"Well, it won't when I'm done with it," Harry told him. Ron watched Harry do the whole routine—squirt the mousse into his hair, part it, and finally style it with the blow-dryer and the round brush. When Harry first tried to do it on his own, it hadn't worked as well as when Sirius did it, but after some practice it got a lot easier.

"It does look different," Ron admitted. "I mean, good different."

"Thanks," said Harry. "Shall I open the present now?"

"Okay." Ron nodded, and Harry took it from him. Inside was a little metal golden Snitch, which Harry realized was a belt buckle.

"Wow, Ron, this is great!" said Harry genuinely. "I'll wear it to dinner tonight. It'll look great."

"We're going to dinner?" said Ron, brightening. "Where?"

"Reggie's Pizza Empire, of course," Harry told him with a grin. "That's Regulus's gift to me."

"Yes!" said Ron, pumping his fist in the air.

After Harry was dressed again in his dark wash jeans and button-down shirt, wearing his Old Spice cologne and the new belt buckle, he and Ron played wizard's chess until Hermione arrived. She was carrying a present, too. When Harry opened it, he saw that it was a book about Quidditch. The three of them looked at it together, even if Hermione's interest seemed a bit lackluster. She had never been a Quidditch girl.

Remus came over, too, and gave Harry a gift of scented candles. They were summer-themed, with names like "Wet Sand" and "Bahama Breeze." Harry liked smelling the candles and picturing the name of the candle at the same time, testing to see if "Beach Walk" did indeed smell like a nice stroll along the shore.

Sirius may have given Harry the best birthday present of all, though. When he opened it, he saw that they were a pair of cuff links. They were solid gold, with three small letters carved on each one. The first read _JFP_ ; the second, _HJP_.

"Thanks, Sirius," said Harry, holding up to the light and watching the way they gleamed. "Where did you get them?"

"They belonged to James," Sirius explained. "Lily gave them to him for his eighteenth birthday, the first birthday he had while they were together. They both read JFP then, for James Fleamont Potter. But a few years later, when you were born, your dad magically changed one of them to have your initials instead, and gifted them back to her. She loved it."

"Oh…oh, wow." That was all Harry could say. This seemed different than any other thing Harry had that belonged to his father. The Prongs toy was just a baby gift that he sometimes turned to when he was sick or upset. The Invisibility Cloak and the Marauder's Map were certainly useful and valuable, but only if you needed to sneak around school or steal food from the kitchens. And the dueling gloves and helmet had certainly come in handy, but somehow…somehow they didn't seem as personal as this gift.

These cufflinks were James's very first birthday gift from the girl he had loved for years. He had worn them on dates with her. He had worn them when he married her. He had changed the initials on one of them, so that Harry could wear them when the time came, but by leaving his initials the same on the other, he wouldn't be forgotten. Someday, Harry thought, he would wear these at his own wedding, and even though James wouldn't be sitting there watching in the crowd with Lily, he would still sort of be there, on Harry's wrists…The lump in Harry's throat was the size of a golf ball.

"Are you okay, Harry?" Hermione asked softly.

"Y-Yeah." Harry's voice was a little shaky, but his face stayed dry, at least. "I guess…I guess this was really an important part of my dad, huh?"

"Of course," said Sirius. "But you know what the most important part of your parents is, don't you?"

"What?"

" _You're_ the most important part of your parents, Harry," said Sirius, sitting down next to him. "They both still live on inside you, their son. The cufflinks are just a physical manifestation of that, passed down from father to son."

Since Harry was wearing a dress shirt, Sirius helped him put on the cufflinks, so he could wear them to dinner.

"They look amazing, Harry," said Hermione.

"Smashing," Ron added.

…

By the time seven rolled around and they got to Store #8, which was the newest one so far, everyone was starving. They got seated immediately, of course, in a booth. Sirius sat in the middle of Barbara and Remus (Barbara sat on the aisle seat, because she had to use the bathroom every half hour or so). Harry sat on the other side sandwiched between Hermione, who sat in the aisle seat, and Ron, who sat next to the wall.

"Just don't tell them it's my birthday, Regulus," said Harry. "I don't want them singing to me."

"Got it," Regulus said shortly. Everyone had noticed he'd seemed a little short-tempered these days, although Harry didn't know why.

They had to wait an unusually long time for their waiter. Regulus kept frowning and checking his watch, and Ron was moaning about how hungry he was. Harry could feel his own stomach growling, when finally they heard a shrill voice:

"Oh. My. God!"

" _Now_ what?" said Regulus testily.

"Don't you guys remember me?" the waiter was saying excitedly. "Mr. Black! It's me, Dylan! You know, from childbirth class!"

Harry looked up at him in shock. If he was being honest with himself, he had totally forgotten that Dylan worked at Reggie's Pizza Empire. In fact, he'd mostly forgotten about Dylan in general. But now all the stories Sirius told him about this particular teenager came rushing back, and…

"How's your girlfriend?" said Harry.

"Ashley? Oh, she's doing great!" Dylan's eyes misted over. They were a light brown; his hair was blonde, but not as light as Malfoy's. "I'm so excited for our baby! I'm sure she's going to look just like me!"

"Yes," said Regulus dryly, "the _spitting image_ , exactly."

Sirius snorted with laughter, and Barbara giggled. But the innuendo went right over Dylan's head.

"I hope she looks like Ashley, too, though," said Dylan thoughtfully. "After all, she is the love of my life…"

His eyes drifted back to Harry, and then to Harry's hairline.

"Wow, that's an interesting scar," he said. "Where did you get it?"

"Dylan," Regulus scolded, "you can't just go asking personal things like that—"

"No, I don't mind answering," said Harry. "For your information, Dylan, I got it the night my parents were brutally murdered by a serial killer when I was only fifteen months old. Aren't you glad you asked?"

"N-No!" Dylan looked horrified.

"All right, then, Dylan." Regulus sighed. "Enough is enough!"

"Reggie!" Dylan stared at Regulus, as if noticing him for the first time. All the color left his face. "Um—um, I'm sorry! I'll try harder, I swear!"

Regulus didn't say anything, but he was chewing his bottom lip in annoyance. Harry wished they had gone to the other location.

"Yeah, um…" Dylan couldn't seem to remember what to say. "I-I think…our specials tonight, um…wait, a minute—or do I ask for the drinks first? Oh no, this is a disaster, I'll be fired for sure, I know it, I know it—"

"Dylan!" Regulus barked, sounding much more like Sirius than his regular zen-calm self.

"W-What?" Dylan whimpered.

"I came here to have a pleasant dinner with my family and friends." Regulus's voice was low and angry as he gestured to everyone at the table. "I didn't come here to evaluate your performance as a waiter, which is just as abysmal as usual. You may take our drink order to the kitchen."

Dylan's bottom lip was trembling, although Harry was more surprised he even knew what the word "abysmal" meant. They ordered their drinks, and Dylan scribbled them in his little notebook, but his face was turning redder by the second, and he was sweating profusely. His eyes were fixed on Regulus, who gave him a rather stony look in return. Then he completely broke down.

"Oh my God, Reggie, please don't fire me!" he begged, dropping to his knees. "I have a girlfriend and a baby on the way! Don't throw me out on the street! I'll do better, I mean it, I—"

"Dylan, PLEASE!" Regulus said back. "I am NOT going to fire you! What do you think I am, some kind of monster?"

"Is—is that a trick question?" said Dylan, cowering.

"GO!" Regulus shouted, pointing towards the kitchen. Once he left, Regulus groaned in exasperation, hands buried in his gelled black hair.

"In case you haven't noticed," he grumbled, "being Boss Man isn't exactly a cake walk."

"Well," said Sirius with a grin, "it's still better than your first year in America, right? When you lived in the apartment with the crazy roommate who talked to the plants?"

"Not really," Regulus said without smiling. "At least he helped me try to get the smell of rat urine out of the carpet."

Harry didn't know what was wrong with Regulus lately, so he just put it out of his mind. The talk turned to Dylan again, instead.

"I wonder what's going to happen when the baby's born and it doesn't look like him," Sirius commented.

"Why wouldn't it look like him?" said Hermione. "Isn't he the father?"

Harry didn't really feel like explaining it to her. Saying the words "blow job" in front of _any_ girl, much less the one who was supposed to be his girlfriend, was not appealing. Barbara explained it instead with relish, and by the end, Hermione looked shocked.

"Oh! Spitting image!" said Ron, laughing. "I _just_ got that!"

"Yeah," Sirius replied, "except he told us she swallowed, which he thought was what made her pregnant."

"Why would he _tell_ you that?" Hermione asked in disbelief. "Why would he tell _anyone_ that?"

"Because he doesn't understand TMI," Sirius told her. "None of them did."

That was when Dylan came back with their drinks, blissfully unaware of the fact that he was working to support a cheating girlfriend and a baby who he refused to believe wasn't his. What a life _that_ baby would have.

"Are we—are we ready to order?" he said tremulously.

Barbara ordered the chocolate-chip-cookie pizza, and everyone else decided to split a giant Reggie. It was only a few minutes later, though, that Barbara said she had to use the ladies' again.

"I'll come with you," said Hermione as Barbara heaved herself, with great difficulty, out of her seat.

"Why is it girls do that?" Harry asked nobody in particular, once they were out of earshot. "Do they all have to pee at the same time, or what?"

"No, I think they go in there to talk about us," Sirius offered.

"Oh, come off it," said Ron. "You're telling me they're just standing in there _talking?"_

"Well, Barbara has a baby resting on her bladder, so I'm sure she's got to go," Remus reminded them, "but who knows? Hermione might have just gone to keep her company."

"That's ridiculous," Ron insisted.

"Yeah, but I'll bet it's true," Sirius replied.

Their food came while Barbara and Hermione were in the restroom, and they were already eating when the two came back.

"The tampon machine is broken," Barbara announced, as Hermione sat down.

"Well, it's not as if you need one," Regulus said curtly, taking a bite of pizza.

"I'm not the only female in the restaurant, you know," she said indignantly. "But I guess as long as _you're_ not the one walking around with toilet paper shoved up your private parts, _you_ don't care."

Sirius coughed.

"Fine, you've made your point," Regulus told Barbara, looking irritated. "Go tell the manager."

"I don't need to, do I?" she said. "You're the own—"

"Yes, yes, I'm the owner!" Regulus exploded. "So why not just tell _me?_ Let _me_ deal with it! Never mind that it's my day off! Never mind that I spent the past five days in meetings and STILL nobody can get their shit together!"

Harry stared, along with everyone else. Never before had Harry heard Regulus let a curse word slip.

"Never mind that I Splinched myself on the way to Hogsmeade yesterday morning because I hadn't had my coffee and was two hours late to the planning session because I had to wait for the Accidental Magical Reversal Squad to put me right!" Regulus continued, waving his arms around. "Never mind that a supply truck crashed and lost me who knows how much in profits! Does anyone care? NO! Just keep bothering me with problem after problem, disaster after disaster—oh, let _Reggie_ fix it, _he's_ the owner, he's got nothing BETTER to do! I keep getting calls from Chicago in the middle of the night, calls from London during the day—sometimes it's GOING TO HAVE TO WAIT! THE WORLD DOES NOT REVOLVE AROUND YOU!"

Barbara swallowed.

"Sorry," she whispered.

"I'm going out to get some air," Regulus grouched, getting up from his seat and stalking out of the restaurant. Jaws hanging open, everyone stared after him, until finally Sirius broke the silence.

"Shall I…shall I go talk to him?" he asked nervously.

"Yes," said Barbara.

"No," said Remus.

"What?" said Sirius.

"It's just stress," said Remus calmly, stirring his tea with a straw. "Just give him some time to cool off and be alone."

"Yeah, see, that's the problem with you men," said Barbara. "You never let anyone in! What if Regulus _needs_ to talk? Maybe that's the only way he'll get his feelings out."

"I think he got them out pretty well just now." Ron's eyes were still wide.

"You're his brother, Sirius," Barbara insisted. "Regulus needs you now more than ever. You have to find out what's eating him."

"All right…fine," said Sirius. "Harry, you want to come with?"

"Sure," said Harry, and they went outside. Regulus was sitting on the curb, stone-still, his face in his hands. Sirius sat down on one side of him, Harry on the other.

"We really are sorry, you know," Sirius said finally, setting one hand on Regulus's shoulder.

"No, I'm sorry." Regulus took his face out of his hands; looking at him up close, Harry saw that his eyes had that sleepless, baggy look, like Remus's. "I don't know what got into me. I shouldn't have acted like that, especially not on your birthday, Harry."

"It's okay," said Harry. Regulus smiled weakly at him.

"Honestly, though, Reg, what's bothering you?" Sirius asked. "Maybe we can help."

"You can't help," Regulus told him. "Nobody can. It's just that…I think Store #9 was a mistake."

"Store #9?" said Harry.

"Hogsmeade," Regulus explained glumly. "Stores 1 through 6 are in Chicago. 7 and 8 are in London. 9 is supposed to be the restaurant in Hogsmeade, but like I said, nobody can get their act together, and everything's going wrong. I've bought premises, but I can't find a store manager or an operations manager or a chef or anything, and the marketing is going horribly, and the supplies got delivered somewhere else by mistake, and I have to go back to Chicago _again_ next week for _more_ meetings, and then I have to lead more meetings here, and I have to supervise everything going on in Hogsmeade…"

"Bit off more than you can chew, did you?" Sirius said sympathetically.

"I have to do it all alone, too," Regulus said miserably. "It just feels like too much sometimes."

"You don't have to do it alone," said Sirius. "What about Holly? I bet she would be great with marketing."

"Have you any _idea_ how improper that is, Sirius?" Regulus demanded. "I've barely been courting her for a month."

"Yeah, but we've known her longer than you have," Harry told him. "She'd be glad to help you."

"It seems like it seeps into every area of my life, anyway," Regulus continued, as if he hadn't heard Harry. "I mean, even on my days off…No day is a day off if you're a small business owner. You know that? I have to put out little fires every day, even if I'm not in the office or in a restaurant. Even if I'm trying to sleep. Even if I'm out to dinner with Holly. And with Store #9 being the disaster that it is, and with some people talking about a Store #10 in Diagon Alley, things have been driving me about 200% nuts."

"But you'd never put your family on the backburner for your career," Sirius said confidently.

"Would I, though?" Regulus said in despair. "Sometimes I worry…that I'll marry Holly and we'll have a baby…and he'll grow up, and someday he'll be on a date of his own, and the girl will ask him what his favorite thing to do with his father was, and he'll say, nothing, because his father was always working!"

Harry could have sworn he saw tears in Regulus's eyes then.

"Reg," said Sirius placatingly, "who's talking marriage? Who's talking children? Why can't you just enjoy your relationship with Holly as it is?"

"Because I don't date women I can't see myself marrying," Regulus said back, his voice wavering uncontrollably, "and besides, when you ask a man for permission to date his daughter, usually he expects you to marry her in the end and—and…"

"Oh, no, Reg," said Sirius. "No, you didn't…"

"I did," Regulus told him.

"Did what?" Harry asked in confusion.

"Bought a ring," said Regulus.

" _What?"_

"Not to give to her now," Regulus said quickly. "But…you know, maybe on Christmas or something…"

"You said it yourself!" Harry insisted. "You've only been dating a month! If that!"

"That's not so uncommon," Sirius said fairly. "Pureblood families care little for lengthy courtships, usually. The idea was to get the heir married as soon as possible, so hopefully he could leave a line of descent."

"What if he didn't want to settle down?" said Harry. "What if he wanted to see the world first?"

"Well, he could," said Sirius.

"So what's the mother supposed to do? Stay home and change diapers all day?"

"No, the house-elves change the diapers, remember?"

"Whatever," said Regulus impatiently. "I think we're getting a bit off-track here. The point is, my career is becoming a disaster, and I think I'm fed up."

"Listen, Reg, it's not a disaster," Sirius told him. "We can help somehow, I'm sure."

"If you add butterbeer to the menu, it'll be a hit," Harry told him. "All the Hogwarts students will go there instead of the Three Broomsticks."

"True," said Regulus, brightening a little.

"And speaking of adding things to the menu, I'll bet Barbara's brownies would do well, too," Sirius added.

"Wait a minute!" said Harry. "Regulus, didn't you say you were looking for a chef?"

"Yes, that's one of the bigger problems. Thanks for reminding me."

"No…I mean, why couldn't Barbara be the chef?" Harry said excitedly. "She's a good cook, isn't she? And she could learn how to make Reggie's pizza."

Regulus looked thoughtful. "Well, if she has no objection…"

"Holly could help with marketing, too, like I said," Sirius said. "Believe me. And hey—she's a bartender at the Three Broomsticks. Maybe she could be a waitress or something."

"I'm not going to make my girlfriend be a _waitress_ ," said Regulus.

"Well, a hostess, then, I don't know." Sirius shrugged. "Just put some of the burden on our shoulders. And for crying out loud, why don't you just _tell_ them you're swamped and can't do it? Can't they possibly fix _anything_ on their own?"

"You'd think," said Regulus. "But no. It's like every time the tiniest thing goes wrong, they call me."

"Just send out a notice you're busy with Store #9, and give them instructions on what to do when common things go wrong," Harry suggested.

"We'll see," said Regulus, standing up heartily. Sirius and Harry stood up with him.

"Just enjoy tonight," Sirius said, putting an arm around his shoulders. "And don't be so hard on yourself. With you, I know family always comes first. That's why you went to America in the first place, isn't it?"

"Yeah, pretty much," Regulus agreed, and they went back into the restaurant.

Remus, Barbara, Ron and Hermione looked a little cautious as they walked back in. But when he sat back down, Regulus looked much calmer, though he still looked tired.

"Are you all right, Regulus?" Hermione asked tentatively.

"Fine, just fine," Regulus told her. "Now, Harry—I believe you're entitled to a free dessert when it's your birthday. Waiter!"

"Yes?" Dylan walked over to them, trembling.

"Get me a giant cake, please, for all of us to share," Harry told him. Dylan looked over at Regulus, but this time Regulus gave him a smile.

"Thank you, Dylan," he said. "I have to say, your performance tonight wasn't as abysmal as I once thought."

Dylan turned red and started mumbling, and they all laughed. When you thought about it, Harry decided, his twelfth wasn't a bad birthday at all.

Tomorrow, move-in day.


	23. Surprises

The rest of Harry's birthday was spent packing. Ron and Hermione helped a little, then both of them went home. They would need their rest, for tomorrow they were going to go to Hogsmeade and help Harry move in. The earliest train left at six in the morning, and they were taking that one to get there by three in the afternoon.

Regulus was going to help them move in, but he didn't have to get up early, because he was just going to Apparate, then after the move-in was done, he would escort Ron and Hermione home by train, leaving Sirius's family there. So he stayed late. Sirius decided to give all their old furniture to charity and buy new furniture, sort of as just another way to start their brand-new life together, as he put it, and Regulus drove all the donations to a secondhand store while the family packed up everything else.

Sirius wouldn't let Barbara help, of course, because she was pregnant, and he didn't want to strain Harry either, but with help from Sirius and Regulus's wands, the packing went quickly. Harry and Barbara mostly got to sit on the couch eating ice cream while the men did the work. Harry wanted to help at first, but when he dropped several boxes on his toes and broke a lamp, Sirius politely told him to "get out of it," so he decided to take a break with Barbara.

"This is yet another time when it's better to be a woman," Barbara told him. "We never have to do the heavy lifting if men are around. We just have to sit back and look pretty, and they do it all for us, like slaves."

Harry glared at her, but he was spared the effort of thinking of a retort when Sirius spoke.

"All right, everyone, time to get to bed," he declared, standing up straight and putting his hands on his hips. "Big day tomorrow."

"I'll see you guys tomorrow around three," said Regulus.

"It's a date," said Sirius, and Regulus vanished in midair with a crack. Harry remembered how on TV, when he was really young, he had seen cartoon wizards Apparating, or at least doing something akin to it, but they always clapped their hands and left a puff of glittery smoke behind. Like if they didn't clap their hands once, it wouldn't work. Harry imagined getting a license to Apparate and then clapping once every time he did it, just to be funny.

By the time Regulus was gone, and all their furniture was at a secondhand store, and the stuff they wanted to keep was in boxes, the flat was completely empty, as impersonal as a motel room. Sirius, Barbara and Harry just stood there, looking around for a couple of minutes. It was the strangest thing. So many different things had happened in this flat over the past year, although from September through early June, nothing much had happened in it at all.

"It's just…so empty," Barbara said finally. "I haven't even lived here for three months, and yet I feel like I'm leaving a part of myself here."

"I know," said Sirius. "But think of it, Barbara—a _house_. You've never lived in one."

That was true. Since Barbara had lived in downtown London all her life, the only home she'd ever lived in was a flat. Harry found it hard to believe someone had never lived in a house, but then, everyone had different experiences. Besides his one year with his parents, the first eleven years of his life had been spent in a wealthy, quiet suburb—Little Whinging, of course. And his parents had lived in a cottage. So what would he know about living in a flat? It all depended on where you grew up.

Sirius conjured up comfy sleeping bags for them. It was about ten at night, and normally Harry wouldn't have gone to bed this early, but they had to rise with the sun. Sirius turned off the lights and they climbed into the sleeping bags.

"This reminds me of the sleepovers I used to have with my friends when I was young," Barbara said. "Those were always fun."

"When you're an adult," Sirius joked, "your sleepovers are a lot different."

"Yes, a different kind of fun," she added.

Harry wondered if they were planning on including him in the conversation, or if they would just talk like they did when they were in their bedroom at night and forget he was there. Either one wouldn't be completely bad, he decided; after all, what did married couples, or soon-to-be married couples, talk about in bed at night? Or did they not talk at all?

Just then it occurred to him that Phoebe might have been conceived in this flat. Maybe on this very floor, right here in the drawing room! Harry wasn't planning on asking. But if his baby sister really was conceived here, that would probably be the most important thing to happen of all, because Phoebe was what ultimately caused them to move out and buy a house to begin with. If Barbara hadn't gotten pregnant, Sirius might have just renewed his lease, or taken out a much longer one to last until Harry's seventh year.

Sirius was in between Harry and Barbara. Glancing over, Harry could see that their hands were clasped together. Sirius was staring at her hand with a smile on his face, and suddenly Harry wondered if he was thinking about what the ring would look like there. Was it in one of the boxes, packed up? Or was it in Sirius's pockets? What if when he finally decided to propose to her, he was wearing the wrong jeans, and the 450-Galleon ring was lost?

Barbara rolled over and put her head and her other hand on Sirius's chest; her eyes were closed. Sirius closed his eyes, too, and put his other hand on top of her pregnant belly. Her lips curved into a smile. With a small yawn, Harry settled into his sleeping bag.

…

Harry didn't remember falling asleep, but he did remember waking up. One minute he'd been watching Barbara and Sirius drift off into sleep together, the next moment there was sunlight glaring into his eyes from the window and the smells of coffee and bacon coming from the kitchen. Sirius was shaking him awake.

"Rise and shine, mate," he said. "We've got to be at King's Cross by six. Get dressed and have some breakfast before we go."

"All my clothes are packed away."

"Well, fish something out of a box and put it on," Sirius told him. "Hurry!"

"You're one to talk," Harry said back. Sirius wasn't dressed yet at all. In fact, he must have just gotten out of the shower, because he was wearing his blue dressing gown, and he was running a comb through his soaking-wet hair as he talked.

"I'll be done soon," he said. "Barbara, how are the pancakes coming?"

Barbara poked her head out of the kitchen. Her hair was still wrapped up in a towel, with a wet strand here and there poking out and sticking to her face. She was, Harry realized, wearing nothing but a neon-pink dressing gown. She was stirring some batter in a bowl.

"They're doing great," she said brightly. "Morning, Harry, how'd you sleep?"

"Fine, just fine," he said back, trying not to stare too much, but it was a close thing. There was only one other time when he had seen a braless woman—last year, on Halloween, when Holly had donated her bra so Sirius could make a tourniquet with it. Holly had been wearing a skintight cat costume, and without her bra, her huge breasts were on display for everyone to see.

Barbara's robe was obviously loose-fitting; however, Holly's costume had gone all the way up to her neck, while Barbara's robe was low-cut, open at the top, so a lot more was actually exposed. How had Harry never realized how much bigger her breasts had gotten since she'd become pregnant? If she had been wearing a necklace, the pendant would probably get buried. The nipples were covered, of course, but you could just slightly see the outline of them. It occurred to him that unlike boys, when girls grew up, they got a whole new body part.

"I don't know where the clothes are packed," Barbara said, and grinned. "But you could just go in your pajamas."

"Here, _I'll_ find something for you," Sirius said impatiently, and he seated Harry on the floor, since there was no couch. "Quit gawking!" he hissed.

"Who's gawking?"

" _You_ are."

"No, I'm not," said Harry. "I've just never seen her that…exposed."

"Whatever, I don't have time for this," Sirius said shortly, and went to rummage through some boxes in the closet. Harry got dressed in his bedroom, except it could have been any room at all. He didn't bother to style his hair, but it was a different story for Barbara and Sirius. They both needed to do their hair. Sirius dried his with his wand after he put in whatever products he needed, but Barbara preferred to stick with the blow-dryer. Harry figured that when Phoebe turned eleven or so, she would become obsessed with her hair too, just like her parents, and they would live in a house surrounded by a cloud of hairspray.

When everyone was finished getting dressed and eating breakfast and doing their hair, and all the boxes were magically shrunk and put into Regulus's roller bag, they hailed a taxi to take them to King's Cross, where Ron and Hermione would be waiting. Then they would all take the 6 a.m. train to Scotland.

…

Ron and Hermione were already there when Sirius, Barbara and Harry arrived, sitting on a bench next to each other. Hermione was reading _The Economist_ , though looking sleepy as she did so. Ron's head was tipped back and he was snoring loudly.

"Hi, guys," said Harry, making his way towards them. It was summer, so by six in the morning, the sun was already up and starting to rise above the buildings of nearby London.

"M-Morning, Harry," Hermione yawned, and she started shaking Ron to get up.

"S'too early, 'Mione," Ron mumbled, and rolled over on the bench.

"Get _up_ , Ronald," she insisted, pulling on one of his hands. Harry pulled on the other, and finally they got him to his feet.

"Where's the train?" Harry heard Sirius saying. "Is it late?"

"Maybe," Barbara said tiredly. "Phoebe's wide-awake, though. She's kicking a lot. Really kicking, not just the quickening."

Everyone had been excited when Phoebe kicked for the first time, Harry remembered. But now that she did it constantly, it was old news. Harry wondered if he would ever feel comfortable enough with Barbara to feel her pregnant belly for kicks. Probably not; she was due in a little over a month, and if he didn't have the nerve to do it now, he figured, he never would.

The train ride to Scotland was pretty dull. It wasn't like the Hogwarts Express, which he had now ridden twice (and now would probably never ride again, seeing as when they moved into the new house, Hogwarts would basically be in their backyard). For one thing, the Hogwarts Express left at eleven, when people's brains were actually working and the sun was up high in the sky. For another thing, on the Hogwarts Express, you ran into all your friends, and there was a witch who gave out snacks, and basically everyone had a grand old time.

On this train, most people were either sleeping or reading a newspaper, and Harry, Ron and Hermione were the only people in their age block. Besides them, it was mostly adults, and a few very small children, either sleeping or crying. Barbara was looking kind of nervous at the crying babies, maybe because she wondered if Phoebe would cry that much herself, but Sirius's eyelids began to droop, and finally he leaned his head on her shoulder and snored. Hermione curled up in a little ball on her seat and slept as well; Ron leaned his head back and did the same. Harry figured the train ride would go by quicker if he got some sleep, too, so he shut his eyes.

…

Harry woke up several hours later, probably because he was hungry. Sirius and Hermione were still asleep, but Barbara and Ron were plowing their way through a huge pile of sweets. If the two of them had a head start, there would be nothing left, so Harry blinked a little, put his glasses back on, and sleepily grabbed a Mars Bar.

"Nice to see you're up, Harry," whispered Barbara, although it was a bit muffled due to the chocolate in her mouth.

"You too," he mumbled. "What time is it?"

"About nine in the morning," she replied. "We've still got some ways to go yet."

Harry groaned. _Why_ hadn't he just slept the whole way? At least this was a one-way trip. He wouldn't be going back to London until he got his school letter and needed to go to Diagon Alley, and then hopefully they could just Floo or something.

"Did Sirius say why we didn't use the Floo to get to Hogsmeade?" Harry asked. "It would go faster."

"Something about how our fireplace wasn't hooked up to the Floo network," she said.

"Then why _didn't_ he hook it up?"

"I don't know—I think it takes days to get authorized or something…"

Harry groaned. Now he couldn't fall asleep, as he was tired, but not sleepy. The more he wanted to go to sleep to make the ride go by quicker, the more he stayed awake.

"I wish I could just go to sleep," he complained.

"Well, that's why I brought these," Barbara said, pulling a little bottle out of her purse. "One for each of us, except me. Pregnant women can't take it."

"What is it?" Harry asked.

"Six-Hour Sleep," she told him. "You could say it's kind of like the Muggle version of a Sleeping Draught. It's drug-free, since the chemicals in it, like melatonin, are things you can get in food, or that your body produces, but it makes you sleep soundly for six hours."

"I'll take it!" Harry said, grabbing the Six-Hour Sleep bottle out of her hand. It tasted nasty, but she gave him some water to drink. It wasn't as instant as a Sleeping Draught; it took about fifteen minutes, but Harry finally felt himself nodding off again. And before he did, he realized that Barbara had just acted very motherly. Maybe there was hope for her after all.

…

Harry didn't wake up until three, when the train was pulling into the station of the nearest Muggle town, a tiny town about four miles away from Hogsmeade, as far as the train went. Harry was just worrying that they would have to walk to Hogsmeade when a Mercedes pulled into the station and Regulus stepped out, shutting the door behind him. Without even asking, Harry knew Regulus was going to give them a lift to their house in Hogsmeade where they could start moving in, and he was grateful.

"Good afternoon, guys," he said brightly. "How was the trip?"

"Fine, just fine," said Harry. After his long sleep, he felt rested. Barbara, the only one who hadn't taken the sleep aid, looked tired.

"I couldn't sleep a wink," she said. "I'll be glad when this pregnancy's over."

"Right," said Sirius. "Then, it will be Phoebe's howling keeping us _all_ awake. It'll be fairer."

"How would _you_ know?" Barbara asked fearfully.

"Because a certain someone I used to babysit got cranky sometimes, that's why," Sirius said, ruffling Harry's hair.

"Well, anyway, you'd better get in the car," Regulus told them. "I rented it for the day. We've got a lot to do and not unlimited hours in the day. Andromeda's there to help out, too, with the organizing."

"Thank God," Sirius breathed. "Andromeda is the only woman I know who can make germs scream."

"Oh yeah?" said Harry. "I bet Aunt Petunia could give her a run for her money. Nobody's as obsessive about cleaning as my aunt is."

…

It was a short drive to the new house in Hogsmeade. Maybe it was Harry's imagination, but it looked more welcoming than ever. They would need to buy new furniture, since they had given everything big away to charity, but they had the small stuff, and Phoebe's nursery was all set to go. When they got inside, they were first greeted with the foyer. Sirius leaned Regulus's roller bag against the stairs.

"Andromeda?" he called.

"Sirius!" she said in greeting, stepping out of the drawing room. "Reg invited me here to help you all move in—and I must admit, I don't want to miss the surprise…"

" _What_ surprise?" said Barbara, as everyone else grinned.

"Barbara, come upstairs," said Sirius. "We have something to show you."

Harry felt his heart racing. This was it! Barbara was finally going to see the nursery they had put together for Phoebe.

All six of them trooped upstairs. They walked all the way down to the end of the hall, where Harry knew the nursery was. Only Barbara didn't know it was there. Sirius pushed open the door and said, "We put a nursery, together, love, for the—"

"For the baby!" Barbara finished, her hazel eyes filling with tears, and she threw her arms around Sirius. "Oh my God, thank you!"

She let go of him, then, and walked all around the room, exclaiming over everything she saw—the rocking chair in the corner, all the furniture and things she'd gotten at the baby shower, the paint, the drapes, the letters on the wall, and the crib. Especially the crib.

"Siri, did you build this?" she shrieked.

"Sort of," he said. "I had a little help from your father and grandfather. We got the wood from the trees on his farm. The patchwork quilt is a gift from your grandmother."

"Oh my God," she said again, hugging Sirius around the waist. Everyone else was smiling as they watched. Harry couldn't help but feel pleased. Hermione slid her hand into his, and they grinned at each other. "Thank you so much, Siri. I've never had a better surprise in my life."

"Are you sure?" said Sirius. "You can't think of _anything_ else?"

"No, I can't!" she insisted. "There's nothing that could make this day any better than it is."

"I doubt that," said Sirius. "Barbara, love, it's time."

"Time for what?" Barbara looked confused, but Harry knew, in a split second, what Sirius was going to do. Oh, dear _God_.

"It's time for you and me," Sirius told her, and everyone watched, jaws hanging open, as he got down on one knee. Harry could tell from everyone's faces that he wasn't the only one who hadn't been informed. Even Regulus looked frankly gobsmacked.

"Oh, Sirius!" Barbara gasped, and she hardly ever called him "Sirius."

Sirius dug the little box out of his jeans pocket and held it open, still on one knee. "Barbara Catherine Raffelovich, will you take my hand in marriage?"

"Oh my _God!"_ she said yet again, and promptly burst into hysterical tears. Andromeda came to the rescue, thankfully, taking Barbara into her arms and smoothing her hair.

"Nod once for yes, honey," she said. Barbara nodded once, still sobbing. Sirius took over, standing up and giving Barbara a hug. Once she had calmed down a bit, Andromeda got her to hold out her left hand, and Sirius slipped the ring onto her finger.

"It's beautiful, Siri!" she shrieked. "But…I mean…what if I drop it in the toilet? What if I lose it? What if I—"

Sirius just laughed and hugged her again.

"I'm glad you said yes, love," he told her, burying his nose in her thick dark hair.

"Well, technically we already agreed to marry," she said, sniffling a little. Regulus offered her a handkerchief, and she blew her nose, sounding like a truck as she did it. But Sirius just wouldn't let go of her.

"I love you, Barbara," he said.

"I love you too, Siri," she said back, and they kissed.


	24. Photographs and Love Letters

Harry was glad they had Andromeda there to help. Before long, she had taken control of the entire move-in, sweeping around looking gorgeous yet giving orders as if she lived there. She had all the homemaker skills of Aunt Petunia, but none of the abrasive personality. She was as friendly as Barbara and as funny as Holly and as pretty as both of them, and when she smiled you could see her resemblance to Sirius. She was tall like he was, tall and willowy, and her straight brown hair was even longer than Barbara's, all the way down to her elbows. She was wearing a loose powder-blue dress and black flats.

Sirius and Regulus were the ones who took things out of the boxes, whatever they had left; most of their furniture was at a secondhand store back in London, and they were going to go shopping tomorrow in the nearest Muggle town for some new things. They were all the way out in the countryside, so a small town was the best they could do.

Andromeda could fold clothes with her wand, and she and Hermione organized the clothes in the closet with the hangers they brought. Sirius and Regulus unloaded the boxes. Harry and Ron helped wherever they were needed, and Andromeda insisted Barbara take a nap, because she said that when you were pregnant, you should nap whenever you could.

Finally, all the main moving-in things were done. Barbara woke up from her nap, and all seven of them sat on the floor. Andromeda said she'd brought them a housewarming gift, and pulled what looked like an old scrapbook out of her purse. (Harry decided that pretty much every grown-up witch had an enchanted purse like that, and it wouldn't be long before Barbara would be wanting one, too.)

"As dear as it is to me," Andromeda told them, "I'm sure it will be even more precious to you."

"Photographs?" said Sirius.

Harry looked at the scrapbook. On the cover it read _The Most Noble and Ancient House of Black, 1955_ - _Present_.

"My mother got this as a gift from my father when my older sister, Bellatrix, was born," Andromeda told them. "She kept it until Sirius was born a few years later, and after that she and Aunt Walburga just kind of passed it back and forth whenever an important photo was taken or they wanted to glue in a keepsake or something. When my mother was on her deathbed, I think she regretted disowning me, so she gave me this scrapbook. It still has a lot of pages left empty, and I don't think you'll have any trouble filling them up, Sirius."

Andromeda's voice was soft. Sirius looked thoughtful as he opened the cover. All of the pictures were in black and white. Harry looked at the man and woman who must have been Andromeda's parents. Like most people in the Black family, they both had dark hair. Cygnus had glasses and a mustache sort of like Uncle Vernon's, and he was wearing heavy wizard's robes that looked like silk. Objectively, Harry thought, Druella was pretty. She had black hair that went past her waist, and was wearing ornamental jewelry on her head, neck and arms. Her eyes were wide and dark; her dress was long and black and covered every part of her body. She was cradling a black-haired baby in her arms; the photo was moving, of course, and she was rocking the baby with love in her eyes. The photo's caption said, _Welcome to the world, Bellatrix Black_.

Pretty much all of the pictures were of Cygnus, Druella and Bellatrix, at first. Harry noticed that for Andromeda's sister, they didn't seem to look that much alike. Bellatrix was never really smiling in any of her photos, or if she was, it was more like a sadistic smirk, and sometimes she was throwing a tantrum. It wasn't long before pictures of Andromeda started to show up, though. Andromeda was a much cuter baby than Bellatrix had been. She smiled and laughed a lot as a baby, just like she did now. The first photo of her was when she was in her crib, and two-year-old Bellatrix was standing up on her tiptoes to peer into the crib with a scowl on her face.

Then along came Narcissa, Malfoy's mother. Unlike her sisters, she was born bald, but she was cute enough, although not as cute as Andromeda. She was always throwing a tantrum, it seemed. Harry wondered why Druella and Cygnus took pictures of that; maybe they thought it was good practice, later in life, for getting her way. Then, finally, they found a picture of Sirius's family.

Harry was surprised when he saw the woman who must have been Sirius's mother. Sirius had never said anything about how she looked, but after hearing about all the horrible things she did to him, he always pictured her being hideous, like a hag. But she was actually pretty, like Druella. It wasn't a friendly kind of pretty, like Barbara was; more like…well, she looked graceful. Elegant. Refined. Her hair was styled in a fancy updo, and she wore a lot of flashy jewelry, but it wasn't tacky. Nothing, Harry observed, was tacky about this family. Walburga's dresses were all beautiful and expensive-looking. Orion looked a lot like Regulus, more so than Sirius, maybe because they had the same hair. Walburga was holding the infant Sirius, rocking him, just like Druella had been rocking Bellatrix. How long, Harry wondered, had it been since Sirius's mother had held him like that? What if he couldn't even remember? Well, there was no way Harry was going to ask; he wasn't even sure he wanted to know.

There were lots of pictures of Druella's girls and Sirius together; they were more like Sirius's sisters than his cousins, Harry supposed. Sirius and Narcissa, the babies, just sat around drooling. Andromeda colored and laughed and played with toys, and Bellatrix kept stealing Andromeda's dolls or hitting her and Andromeda would cry, but then in a few minutes she'd be back to laughing again. Then Regulus was born, and all the fuss was over him. Kreacher was hovering in the background sometimes, too. He looked a lot younger, of course; there was no white hair coming out of his ears, and his skin was a lot less wrinkled, but he still looked grouchy, and he still had that snout-like nose.

"Ha!" Barbara burst out suddenly, pointing to the photos. "I've got Sirius naked!"

"Now just a minute," said Sirius.

"Not that picture," Regulus moaned.

"Yes, that picture," said Andromeda with a grin.

It was the picture Sirius had mentioned to Harry before, when they talked about house-elves helping raise children. The photo was dated all the way back to 1962. Sirius and Regulus were both in a bath in the sink, and Sirius was squirming away as Kreacher tried to wash his hair. Regulus was chewing on a bath toy, his head covered in bubbles like a wig. It was all the funnier considering the picture was moving, like all wizard pictures.

"Hey, Reg," said Sirius. "How about I show this picture to Holly?"

"Don't you dare!" said Regulus, turning pink.

They came to another photograph Sirius had told Harry about—so Harry knew the story behind it. Regulus had a scary dream, so he walked all the way to Sirius's room and knocked on the door. Sirius had read him stories from _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_ , and they'd fallen asleep together on the bed. That morning, Sirius's mother had found them, and took a picture. Harry was finally seeing that picture. They hardly moved, just slept, curled up against each other. Sirius said once that he and Regulus didn't really start to drift apart until they got Sorted into separate Houses.

It was kind of sad, in fact, how as the years went by and the children in the photographs grew older, Andromeda and Sirius seemed to show up less and less. It seemed like all the pictures were of Bellatrix, Narcissa or Regulus. Harry didn't see Andromeda or Sirius again until they saw a photo dated to 1965— _Walburga's boys and Druella's girls_ , it read.

Bellatrix was looking smug, Narcissa was beaming like she was in a beauty pageant, and Regulus looked a little uncomfortable with it all, but Sirius and Andromeda weren't smiling at all. The girls were wearing fancy dresses. The picture was in very filmy color, so you could see their details more clearly. Bellatrix's dress was black with red ruffles; Andromeda's was blue with white lace; Narcissa's was green with silver trim. They all wore stockings and Mary Jane shoes. One of Andromeda's stockings had slipped down. Bellatrix's hair was tied with a big red bow, Andromeda's was in pigtails, and Narcissa's was loose and already a little past her shoulders. The boys were wearing black vests, slacks, dress shoes, and emerald-green ties tucked in. It all looked so awkward and posed.

"You look fancy," Harry commented.

"No," said Andromeda. "We had to wear dresses like that most of the time—and boy, were they ever uncomfortable. But I think I look good in blue."

They came across Bellatrix's Hogwarts letter next, and another picture of her looking smug, and then Andromeda's letter, and Sirius's and Regulus's. They found photos captioned _Dancing lessons, 1972_ , which meant Sirius was about Harry's age, although he looked older. He was awkwardly dancing with Narcissa. Regulus was dancing with Andromeda. Bellatrix was dancing in a lot more skilled way with a boy Harry didn't recognize.

"Who's that?" he asked.

"Her husband, Rodolphus," Andromeda said darkly, and didn't add any more, so Harry didn't ask any more. There were pictures of Regulus playing piano, which surprised Harry. There was a picture dated to 1970, another _Druella's girls and Walburga's boys_. Bellatrix just was too angry and cruel-looking to be pretty. Narcissa just looked like a female version of Draco Malfoy, sneering away like she was the best thing since sliced bread, and Andromeda looked miserable.

Harry thought he knew how she felt; that was the way he felt when Dudley's friends came to visit. Not because he wanted to play with them, because he didn't. It was just that he _wished_ there were people who wanted him as a friend. That must have been how Andromeda felt, the way her sisters played together and left her out, only she probably had to feel it every waking minute, unless she was with Sirius.It probably wasn't only Sirius who benefited from the times they got together. Sirius was probably Andromeda's first friend, when her first friends should have been her sisters. What could be said for Middle-Child Misery?

As they got to 1976, the year Sirius ran away from home, the pictures of him stopped completely. The pictures of Andromeda were gone, too. In 1976, though, Regulus was made a Slytherin prefect, and there was a picture of _him_ looking smug.

"Listen, Reg, I'm sorry I didn't congratulate you on making prefect or anything," Sirius told him. "I shouldn't have snubbed you like I did at school…"

"Oh, I probably deserved it," said Regulus. "Walking around wearing that prefect badge like it was the most important thing in the world."

"Sort of like my brother, Percy," said Ron.

"Right," said Sirius.

They actually came across a picture of the Dark Mark tattooed on Regulus's arm, and everybody got uncomfortable because of that. How on Earth did you go from two brothers fast asleep on the bed together, or in a bath in the sink together, to one running away and the other becoming a Death Eater? It just seemed so dark and depressing to Harry. Regulus became Head Boy in the 1978-1979 school year, and after that, the pictures of him stopped, too. Bellatrix and Narcissa's wedding photos were in there, but after that, there were no more photos at all until the year 1980, which must have been when Andromeda got the book, because pictures of her started showing up again, plus Tonks and Andromeda's husband, Ted. The very first pictures were those taken at Andromeda and Ted's wedding, and there were pictures of Tonks as a baby. They were all crammed in, probably because Andromeda had put them all in at once to make up for lost time. Since it was 1980, Sirius was there, too, with Tonks on his shoulders, grinning up at her as she laughed.

Then, of course, in 1981, Sirius was gone again. The rest of the pictures were of Tonks, mostly. The last picture had been taken about a year ago; it was Tonks graduating from Hogwarts.

"I brought something to get you started," Andromeda was saying, taking another photo out of her purse, and it was one Harry recognized—Phoebe's ultrasound photo.

"This was on the Black Family Tree, wasn't it?" said Sirius. "I thought Aunt Lucretia used a Permanent Sticking Charm on it."

"Yeah, but I made a duplicate," Andromeda told him.

Barbara was overjoyed. Sirius performed another Permanent Sticking Charm to keep the photo in the book forever and ever, and underneath it Harry himself wrote, _Phoebe Black II_ , _1992_.

…

They spent a pleasant afternoon adding all the photos Sirius and Harry had, the ones of Harry's parents, the ones of Harry as a baby, and the more modern ones. Harry was glad they were doing it, and he liked to think that maybe someday, Barbara and Holly would pass the book back and forth, just as Walburga and Druella had. But underneath all that, he was thinking about how there was such a big chunk missing. The photos went from Toddler Harry to Preteen Harry. There were no pictures of him as a child. None had ever been taken, not a single one, except his school photos, and he had no idea where those were. It was like his life had been erased.

After the scrapbook was filled, all seven of them went into town. One of the greatest things about living in Hogsmeade, Harry discovered, was that they would be able to walk anywhere. It only took about ten minutes for them to get to Hogsmeade's High Street; they got to the Three Broomsticks in no time. And who did they see sweeping the walk outside but Holly Greengrass.

"Hey! Regulus!" she called, waving her hand in the air. Harry hadn't seen her for some time, and he wondered what she'd think if she knew Regulus had already bought a ring for her.

"Good afternoon, Holly," Regulus replied, walking up to her and kissing her hand.

"What a gentleman you are, Regulus," said Holly, and Harry knew that was what she loved the most about him (besides his being a Quidditch player, of course). "By the way…I got your note."

"What note?" said Regulus, standing up and looking confused.

"Oh, don't act so innocent." Holly grinned. "The love letter you sent me!"

"I didn't send you any love letter," Regulus insisted, then looked confused with himself, like maybe he should have.

"It had your name on it," Holly said a little flirtatiously. "Come on, I know you remember. I liked the part about how if I came to the restaurant, you'd give me an extra-large sausage for free…"

Harry noticed suddenly how Regulus's expression had turned from confused to livid, and Sirius was shaking with silent laughter beside him.

"Holly, will you excuse me for a moment?" said Regulus, his teeth not even moving, and he stalked up to Sirius.

" _Reg_ -gie," Sirius chanted at the top of his lungs, "how's _Hol_ -ly?"

"Honestly!" Regulus grouched. "Will you _ever_ grow up?"

But everyone else was laughing so hard at Sirius's prank, including Holly, leaning on her broom, that they barely even heard.


	25. London, Again

It was weird to Harry, living in a house again. The last time he had done so was the summer before first year, with Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon and Dudley. Then he'd done a lot of moving. He moved into Sirius's dirty, hole-in-the-wall studio, then into a bigger, nicer flat, then into Hogwarts, then back to the flat, this time with Barbara, and now, finally, into a house again, all in the space of about one year.

Barbara thought it was amazing, all the space. She said she had no idea how they were going to fill all those rooms with furniture. Of course, she'd told Harry once before that she didn't know the first thing about interior decorating, so maybe they'd have to enlist Andromeda again. Gwen, Barbara's mother, would probably know what to do, but she couldn't know about Hogsmeade, and even if she could, they weren't about to call up someone so fussy.

They ate dinner sitting on trunks in the near-empty living room, and used an overturned box as their table. They didn't have any groceries for Barbara to make dinner, so they got takeout. Regulus escorted Ron and Hermione back home.

"It even has that new-house smell," said Barbara, breathing in as she ate.

They were awfully tired from all the moving stuff, so it wasn't hard to get to sleep after the lights were turned out, even Barbara, the beautiful diamond ring now gleaming on her finger. After Barbara fell asleep, Harry asked Sirius if he had been planning to give her the ring on the day they moved in, and he said he decided it the night before, which was pretty good planning for him. It was ever so dark, darker than London ever had been; there were no traffic sounds outside, just crickets chirping. Hogsmeade, compared to downtown London, was ever so quiet, and definitely more peaceful.

…

Perhaps it was the fact that he was finally in a house again, but Harry dreamed he was back at the Dursleys' house in Surrey. He dreamed he was sleeping in the cupboard, and Aunt Petunia was trying to make him wake up.

 _Tap_ , _tap_ , _tap_.

"Are you up?" she demanded shrilly.

"Nearly," Harry mumbled, but he couldn't find his clothes anywhere. Maybe they were in the wash.

 _TAP_ , _TAP_ , _TAP!_

"I'm COMING!" Harry yelled at her, trying to make her stop tapping, and then he felt someone shaking him awake, and next thing you know he _was_ awake, over a year older since the morning that had really happened, and staring into his godfather's eyes. The tapping was still there, though. Golden sunlight was filling the room; it was probably about six in the morning.

"Harry, what the heck?" said Sirius. His hair was messy, and he was wearing his DILF shirt and undershorts. He looked like he'd just woken up, too.

"Where am I?" Harry said drowsily. "What's that tapping sound?"

"I think your Hogwarts letter's arrived," said Sirius, opening the window so the owl could get in, and letting a fresh breeze in with it. "Don't wake Barbara, it's not easy for her to get back to sleep."

"Since when do they send owls at the crack of dawn?" Harry grouched, laying his head back down. He knew it wouldn't be easy for him to get back to sleep, either.

"They probably do it so that most of their owls can reach students within the day," Sirius told him. "But Hogwarts is right next to us now, so it would make sense that you'd get your letter before anyone else did, doesn't it?"

"I guess," Harry admitted. "But I don't want to go to London today. I want to wait until Ron and Hermione get theirs and go shopping with them."

"They could come with us today and get their shopping done early," Sirius said. "I can put our furniture plans on hold until tomorrow, and I think Barbara would like to see Diagon Alley. We don't have our phone set up yet, although Vlad does know a guy."

"For what?"

"The electricity," Sirius explained. "Normally, only a Muggle electrician could put electricity in our house, but there's this Muggle-born wizard whose dad was an electrician, and he knows a good deal of the trade himself. So his profession is installing electricity in wizard homes, although it's kind of a niche market, because most of us aren't interested. But if we just moved in last night, he won't be able to come over right away."

"So what about the Floo, then?" Harry continued.

"We don't have our fireplace hooked up to the Floo network yet," Sirius said. "I mean, you have to fill out an application and everything. I'm not sure how we'll get to London. It's not safe for pregnant women to Apparate."

"And I don't want to spend another day on a train," Harry added.

"Hmm, we could fly, maybe," suggested Sirius. "Like we did when we went to Arizona and back. That would only take a couple hours."

"Pregnant women aren't supposed to fly," Harry told him, remembering something he had seen on _Love and Lust_. "You know, in case the woman goes into labor on the plane or something, and the pilot has to deliver the baby. I've heard all about babies being born in cars or on buses and trains."

"That only happens on TV." Sirius rolled his eyes. "There's no _way_ a baby could be born on public transit. Barbara could have gone into labor on the way here yesterday, but she didn't, did she?" He paused. "Listen, I'll tell you what. I'll Apparate to the nearest Muggle town and use a payphone there to call the airport and see what their rules are."

Sirius pulled on a pair of jeans and slipped his gym shoes onto his feet. Then he vanished in midair. Harry managed to get back to sleep, and this time he dreamed that Barbara really did go into labor on the airplane. They were flying to London, until she told Sirius there was probably a baby coming out of her. Harry was sitting in the middle seat this time; Barbara was by the window and Sirius was in the aisle seat, like Mrs. Willis had been. The seatbelt sign was on, though, so nobody could get out of their seats, and the seatbelt was strapped right underneath Barbara's pregnancy bump, so the baby got stuck, and Jennifer (who was their stewardess again) told Harry he was just going to have to dislodge Phoebe's head, and then there was Mrs. Willis, who handed Harry a book called _The Idiot's Guide to Female Anatomy_.

Harry awoke just before he had to open the book, sweating a little. There was no way he would _ever_ read a book like that. He looked over at Barbara, who was still asleep. Sirius was awake, though, sitting by the wall with his feet drawn up, sipping grape juice again.

"Good morning, Harry," he said.

"Morning," said Harry. "What time is it?"

"Around nine, I guess," Sirius replied. "I was going to make reservations for the airplane when I was in town, but I wanted to ask Barbara first if it was all right. By the way, Barbara can fly up to 36 weeks of pregnancy, and she's only at 34 weeks, so it's fine."

"Is it, though? I just keep thinking she'll have the baby on the airplane," Harry told him, worried, still. "In fact, that was what I dreamed while you were gone. What if it's an omen?"

"I don't believe in omens," Sirius said shortly. "It was just a dream, Harry, that's all."

As if on cue, that was when Barbara finally stirred. Her eyes opened halfway.

"Siri?" she said, her gaze finally landing on Sirius.

"Good morning, Sleeping Beauty," said Sirius, bending down and giving her a small kiss on the head. "Listen, how would you like to go shopping today?"

"I know we are," she mumbled into her pillow. "Furniture."

"Actually, how about we put that on hold and go to Diagon Alley instead?" Sirius asked her.

"What's Diagon Alley?"

"It's basically an outdoor shopping mall for wizards," Harry told her.

"Ooh, I _love_ outdoor shopping malls!" Barbara cried, springing up. "And do you mean they sell wizard things there? Like wands and stuff?"

"Yeah," said Harry. "Most older kids just go there for their books and stuff, though, or if they're out of potions ingredients or something like that."

"Wow," said Barbara. "But if it includes shopping for clothes, count me in."

"Count me out," said Harry, who didn't like shopping for clothes—or anything else, really.

"Do you need new robes, Harry?" Sirius asked.

"Hmm, I might," said Harry. "I don't know."

"Well, I think we should go just in case," Barbara told him. "And _I'd_ like to buy robes, too. Just because I'm not a witch doesn't mean I can't dress like one. I could wear a Gothic witch dress, like the ones Andromeda has, and I could get an enchanted purse…"

Harry and Sirius knew perfectly well that the reason Barbara thought they should go "just in case" was really only because _she_ wanted to shop. With Barbara along, in fact, Sirius and Harry would be shopping all day.

…

Barbara definitely wanted to go shopping, so she agreed wholeheartedly to the plane ride. Sirius bought the tickets in the next Muggle town over, and he used the payphone to call Regulus, who contacted the Weasleys via Floo. Then, Harry used the payphone to call Hermione.

"Hello?" said Hermione.

"Hi, it's Harry," said Harry.

"Good morning, Harry," said Hermione. "How are you?"

"Fine," said Harry. "Listen, I got my Hogwarts letter today. I know you probably haven't gotten yours, but how about coming to Diagon Alley to shop with me today anyway?"

"Sure, I'll go," Hermione told him brightly. "After all, our school supplies list should be the same."

"Great!" Harry smiled. "I told Ron, too, and he's going to meet us there. Can we meet you in the Leaky Cauldron at noon? Our flight gets in at around 11:30."

"Got it," said Hermione. "Bye."

"Bye," Harry said back. Once he hung up, he asked Barbara and Sirius, "So, when do you stop saying bye and start saying 'love you'?"

"Huh?" said Sirius.

"I mean, on the phone," Harry explained. "You guys always say 'love you' at the end of your phone conversations. When can I start saying that to Hermione on the phone?"

"Well, have you told her you loved her in person yet?" Barbara asked.

"No."

"You probably shouldn't say it on the phone, then," she said. "But there's no set rule."

"There should be," said Harry firmly. "There should be a guidebook of how to do absolutely everything when you're dating."

"Why? That would take all the fun out of life," said Sirius, and Barbara laughed.

Harry had to admit, it was pretty inconvenient to not be able to Apparate anywhere. They had to rent a car to the nearest Scotland airport, then wait for their flight at ten. _Why_ couldn't the Hogwarts letters have come just days earlier, when they still lived in London? Why? Why did they have to be all the way in Hogsmeade?

It was true, of course, that Harry could have walked over to Hogwarts and gotten his school supplies there, at the school bookstore, but he didn't know if the school was open this early in the summer, and even if it was, he wanted to go shopping with his friends and girlfriend.

The plane ride was only an hour and a half long. Sirius was in the middle seat, Harry got the window, and Barbara got the aisle. She needed to use the bathroom three times during the course of the flight, so Harry was glad she knew she was allowed to use it even if they weren't flying over the ocean.

"So did you have a lot to drink, or what?" said Harry as she got back.

"No," Barbara told him. "Phoebe is just resting on my bladder. I haven't been able to go Number Two in days, though."

"Not that I asked," said Harry, and she grinned.

For most of the flight, they were free to roam about the cabin, but almost towards landing, there was some turbulence, so they had to stay in their seats. Unfortunately, that was when Barbara had to go for a fourth time.

"D'you think they'd let me go to the bathroom anyway?" she asked uncomfortably.

"I don't think so," said Sirius. "If you did, the turbulence would make you fall over on your face and you would have an accident."

Barbara winced. Harry felt bad for her, because he knew how she felt, having been in the same situation himself when he and Sirius went to Arizona.

"Once I had an accident at work," Barbara told them. "I had a lot to do, but finally, when I was all caught up, I went to the bathroom. But I accidentally tripped on my high-heeled shoe, and when I landed on the floor, I peed all over myself."

The turbulence got worse all of a sudden. Barbara looked miserable.

"It's all this bouncing," she said. "I mean, sitting down helps to hold it in, but bouncing makes it way harder."

The turbulence ended, but they needed to keep their seatbelts on anyway, because the plane was landing. Harry was glad Barbara hadn't gone into labor, and that his dream hadn't been an omen after all, but neither did he want her having an accident again. When they got off the plane, the stewardess (who was a lot nicer than Jennifer) let Barbara use the airplane bathroom, even though they were on the ground. She thanked them, and they went on to the airport. By the time they walked out of the airport and into Muggle London, it was 11:45. Sirius said if they took the Underground, they would get to the Leaky Cauldron just in time to meet Ron and Hermione.

The ride on the Underground went off without a hitch. Harry and Sirius weren't at that stage yet where they worried Barbara was going to go into labor at any moment, since she still had a month to go. When they got to the Leaky Cauldron, they all used the bathroom, since Sirius said most of the shops in Diagon Alley were old and tiny and didn't have bathrooms in them, and Barbara told them _she_ felt like a leaky cauldron. It was a small, cramped, one-person, unisex bathroom, but it would have to do. Barbara let Sirius and Harry go first, so she was still in the bathroom when Ron arrived.

"The rest of my family is going to go shopping later, when their letters arrive," he explained to Harry, "but my parents say I can go with you today."

Hermione arrived next, beaming. She was wearing a pink blouse and a breezy white skirt with lace trim; a matching pink ribbon was braided into her hair. Her nails were painted dusky rose. Harry was surprised at how…how _feminine_ she looked. Her appearance was certainly a far cry from the day before, when she'd been wearing her oldest clothes (they all had been) and her hair was at its bushiest. Braiding, however, helped keep the bushiness under control.

"You look pretty," said Harry.

"You look great, too," said Hermione with a smile, even though Harry wasn't sure she meant it, since he hadn't had time to do his hair that morning. Oh, well.

"Where's Barbara?" said Ron.

"Bathroom," said Sirius, and at that moment Barbara came bursting out of the one-room bathroom.

"Oh, hi, Ron and Hermione!" said Barbara, smiling. "I guess it's time to go shopping, then! Next stop, Madam Malkin's?"

"Looks like," said Sirius, peering at Harry's school list. "I mean, it looks like the only other things we need to buy are new books."

"Well, I need some new robes," said Ron. "I grew right out of mine. But I hate clothes shopping."

"No kidding? I love clothes shopping," said Barbara. "It's my favorite kind. Maybe, if you give me your sizes, I can pick them up for you."

"That won't work," said Ron glumly. "I need to get fitted."

Barbara shrugged and looked closer at Harry's list. Her head and Sirius's would have been in danger of knocking together, but since he was a solid six feet tall and she was barely 5'3", there wasn't much of an issue.

"Almost all of the books were written by this Lockhart guy," she commented.

"Yeah, the teacher's probably a fan," said Ron. "I'll bet you anything it's a witch."

"The teacher's a fan?" Barbara looked confused. "I mean, that's great…but that doesn't mean she can just decide the whole booklist, does it?"

"Well…yeah," said Sirius. "Harry had to buy a lot of books last year, because he was just starting at Hogwarts. But the only things that change from first year to second are the yearly basic spell books by Miranda Goshawk and, in this case, a teacher swap. Quirrell will find it hard to teach with a broken jaw, won't he, Harry?"

"That, and it would be a bit hard to teach from Azkaban," Harry added, and he and his godfather exchanged grins. But Barbara was still confused over the booklist.

"Okay," she said, "but since when are you allowed to pick the books for your own class?"

"Since always," Sirius told her. "Who else would?"

"The school board! The superintendent!" Barbara looked incredulous. "The headmaster, at the very least! _Is_ there even a school board at that lunatic asylum you call a school, Harry?"

Harry was a little surprised, because that sounded like something his aunt and uncle would say. But then, maybe that was something _any_ Muggle would say. If you looked at it objectively, Hogwarts was pretty insane, and not just because of the three-headed dog and the teachers who didn't have their heads on straight and the moving staircases and the Forbidden Forest and the deadly animals (magical and nonmagical alike) and the ghosts.

Sometimes, it seemed, the craziest thing about Hogwarts was the students themselves. As Harry said to Hermione, the kids he knew at Hogwarts were about ten times crueler than the kids with whom he went to primary school, and if they weren't cruel, chances are they were brainless lemmings who would do anything to fit in.

"There is a school board," said Sirius. "But they don't really design a curriculum or anything."

"Then what do they _do?"_

In answer, Sirius raised his eyebrows and rubbed his index finger and thumb together.

"Well, I can't believe it," said Barbara. "In my Muggle school, the school board designed the curriculum and the booklists. It was a public school, like Hogwarts."

"If something's really dangerous, they might do something," said Sirius. "Like if a student gets killed or something, I guess."

"I remember when I was in secondary school, and we were learning algebra, we had this textbook, and it had a cow and a train on the cover," said Barbara. "Why it had a cow was beyond me. On the front of the book, the cow was in front of the train, but on the back, the cow was riding in the train."

"And you say _we're_ weird," said Sirius.

"At least Muggles don't wait for someone to get killed before the school board interferes," Barbara said back.

It was kind of a dumb argument, so Sirius just rolled his eyes and they forgot about it. Instead, they headed into Diagon Alley. Sirius tapped the bricks on the wall with his wand. Harry and Hermione were excited, and Barbara was looking curious, but Sirius and Ron looked as if they were stopping inside a drugstore to pick up a candy bar. It must get old if you were a pureblood, Harry thought, but to the others, it was still thrilling, especially for an absolutely ordinary Muggle woman who just happened to be engaged to a wizard—and adored shopping.

The fact was, the reason Muggles couldn't enter Diagon Alley wasn't because it had Muggle-repelling spells on it like Hogwarts did. Literally all you needed was a witch or wizard who knew the right bricks to tap, and you were in. Said witch or wizard didn't even have to be of age, because the loophole in the Trace made it so that only Muggle-borns really had to follow that school rule.

Once they were inside Diagon Alley, though, Barbara's curiosity turned to happiness. She seemed delirious with joy, almost. If Barbara died and went to heaven, Harry could guarantee her version of heaven would be one big shopping mall. Outdoor malls were one of her favorite things (on nice days, at least) and here it was, only all the shops contained magical things she'd never seen before. The only thing that would make Diagon Alley better, she said, would be if they had a spa. Oh, and more bathrooms.

First, of course, she wanted to go to Madam Malkin's, the robes shop. She said they would probably have maternity robes there. Sirius said he didn't see what the point was if she was going to have the baby in only a month, but Barbara just gave him a "look." Ron muttered to Harry that The Look was just something every married man had to get used to, and Harry didn't even know if he was joking or not. Hermione smiled, though.

When they got to Madam Malkin's, Barbara asked for maternity robes, and Madam Malkin smiled her kind smile and led her over to that section. Sirius was wearing Muggle clothes because of the plane ride, but he tried on robes, too. He bought a T-shirt that read, "I went to Hogwarts and all I got was this lousy T-shirt." Harry and Ron bought one, too, and they all put them on. Harry remembered they had the same shirt in the school bookstore.

Hermione went with Barbara to tell her how she looked in the maternity robes. Sirius said he wanted no part in that, and at least Harry knew the answer to that one; on _Love and Lust_ , if a woman asked the man in her life if she looked good, she would get angry no matter what the answer was. If you told her she looked fat, of course, she'd get angry, but if you told her she looked great, she would assume you were lying, and she would probably be right, Harry thought, because if she _really_ looked good, she wouldn't have to ask. He would sooner die than take part in any girl drama himself, and maybe that was the main reason he liked Hermione. She wasn't like any of the other girls he knew, somehow, and it was a relief. He couldn't picture Hermione ever asking if she looked fat in something, because she just wouldn't care.

"Here's a question for you, Ron," said Harry, as Sirius was in the dressing room trying on one of the loudest, wildest sets of robes they had (bright blue with green trim and a palm tree design, plus exotic birds on the sleeves). "If you were dating a girl who was pretty—like, _really_ pretty—but she was super high-maintenance, would you stay with her?"

"What d'you mean, high-maintenance?"

"You know, dramatic. Like she makes a big deal out of everything. And she's hard to understand. Would you stay with her?"

"Maybe for a little," said Ron thoughtfully. "But I guess once you get over how pretty she is, the real person starts to show through, and it gets old really fast. I don't think I could ever stay with someone dramatic."

That was pretty insightful, for Ron. Harry nodded in agreement. Sirius burst out of the dressing room wearing the robes he was trying on.

"I think I should get them," he said jokingly. "What do you say?"

The thing was, Sirius could make any outfit work. _How_ he did this was just as much of a mystery to Harry as was the reason why Barbara had a cow on her algebra book, but it was true. Harry wouldn't go to school wearing those robes if his life depended on it; Malfoy would just have a field day, he knew. But Sirius really did look good. Harry didn't know what it was. However, he knew better than to say, _It looks great on you, but I'm not so sure how it would look on me_.

"Buy them," said Ron, who was grinning. "Wear them to school, and all the kids will be jealous."

"I think we actually should try to buy those new robes, though," said Sirius. "Hogwarts ones."

"Having a uniform stinks," said Ron. "If I could wear my pajamas to class, I would."

"Muggle kids do," Harry told him, and he had to laugh at Sirius and Ron's expressions of disbelief. "At the secondary school, when they're teenagers and their parents don't dress them and comb their hair anymore. They just roll out of bed, grab their books, and go to school looking like those homeless teens you see on TV."

Ron looked indignant.

"Let me get this straight," he said. "We have to wear a button-down shirt and a tie with slacks and dress shoes every day, in the _summer_ , even, and Muggle teenagers are going to school in their _pajamas?_ What else do they do, eat breakfast in class?!"

"Actually, yes," said Harry. "Usually someone brings bagels to homeroom."

Harry knew all this because even though he only went to Muggle primary school, he saw the teenagers coming home from the bus stop wearing pajamas and sweatsuits and, when it came to the girls, short shorts and long sweaters, so it looked like they weren't wearing any pants at all. And during his "Orientation" the June before last at Stonewall, before he met Sirius, he heard all about the bagels in homeroom thing. He also, of course, heard about people's heads being dunked in toilets and all the older boys emptying the toilet paper rolls in the bathrooms, but that kind of thing certainly wasn't limited to Muggle kids.

Ron actually bought some real robes, and he had to have them properly fitted by one of the women who worked at Madam Malkin's. He did seem a lot taller than last year. Students really stopped wearing their robes once the weather got warm, so Harry hadn't actually worn his since last winter, but it wasn't likely that he grew enough to need new robes in only the course of four months or so.

Luckily, nobody made a big deal out of it, maybe because that was when Barbara and Hermione came into sight again. Barbara was wearing maternity robes. She really did look like a witch—a very pregnant one.

"My gosh, Sirius, what _are_ you wearing?" she said with a smirk. Sirius was wearing a new set of robes, ones that were neon-green with pink and orange polka dots all over them.

"Just having fun," he said. "Don't worry."

"I'm going to wear these new robes out of the store," Barbara declared, stuffing her Muggle clothes into her shopping bag. "I just _love_ this look."

"I do, too," said Sirius, and Barbara didn't seem to think he was lying that time, because that wasn't a solicited compliment.

…

They stopped in a lot of stores after that. Of course, Harry, Ron and Hermione picked out their new books, even though Ron said his family would probably make him come back to Diagon Alley to get the books for the rest of the Weasley brood. Harry and Hermione said they might come if they could make it. That was what was so nice about friends.

Barbara said one of the reasons she liked the robes was because they were comfier. They were loose, and they had big pockets you could stick your hands in. Barbara bought an enchanted purse, too, and they walked all over Diagon Alley. Harry's feet were hurting, and he was feeling tired, but Barbara was just getting started. Knowing Sirius to be a huge cheapskate, Harry wondered how he wasn't angry with her for spending all his money, until he realized Barbara wasn't actually buying that much.

"Let me ask you something, Barbara," said Harry, trying not to sound rude. "Are you…I mean, do you realize we're walking in almost every shop and you've bought almost nothing?"

"Do you want another lesson about women, Harry?" she asked patiently.

"I don't know." Harry felt he'd had a lot of lessons about women, and none of them exactly made him feel better about the whole concept of dating.

"Well, here it comes," she said. "When women 'shop,' it's not just because they need to run out and buy something. Sometimes it's just a way to bond with their friends, going to the mall and looking at what's for sale, what's _on_ sale. Hanging out and talking, eating at the food court, trying on clothes…"

Harry and Ron looked at each other, and Harry knew they were thinking the same thing. First it was going to the bathroom in packs and not even using the facilities, and now _this?_ Going to a mall and not buying anything? Why bother? If they had something to say to a friend, couldn't they send an owl or call them on the phone?

"But not _all_ girls are that way," Hermione pointed out.

"Of course not," Barbara agreed. "And that's what's great about women. We're all different from one another."

Hermione smiled at Harry, and he smiled back. He thought of putting his arm around her waist, like Sirius did to Barbara, but then decided it would be too forward. So he put his arm around her shoulders instead, and the smile she gave him in return determined that was just fine.

…

After lunch, unfortunately, Barbara had to go to the bathroom again. And this time, she said, it _wasn't_ just Number One, she _couldn't_ hold it in, and they had better get to a bathroom soon.

"The closest one is Gringotts," said Sirius, guiding, almost steering her by the shoulder, like he did to Harry sometimes. "We could be there within…well, I'd say ten minutes, maybe."

"I can't wait ten minutes!" Barbara said, rather hysterically.

"And the witches' room was out of order when we went to Gringotts," Hermione said.

"You mean I'd have to use the _mens'_ bathroom?!"Barbara wailed. "Oh, that's disgusting!"

"Hey, it's not _that_ bad," said Ron, sounding slightly offended.

"It is too that bad!" Barbara told him. She wasn't walking, probably because she thought if she did, she could have a serious accident right there in the street. "I worked in retail once, remember? One night when I was closing, they had me go into the mens' to get the garbage in there, and it totally stunk! Besides, what if I go into the wizards' room and a guy walks in and starts peeing right in front of me? I would just die of embarrassment!"

"I'd pee in a stall if there was a lady present," said Harry, borrowing Mrs. Willis's words.

"Besides, wouldn't you be in a stall, anyway?" added Sirius.

"What if I was washing my hands?" she shot back. "What, do guys not wash their hands after they use the bathroom, either?"

"Sometimes, at home, I don't even turn on the light," said Ron, and Barbara looked like she was going to cry.

"There is something else you can do, if you're _really_ desperate," Sirius told her, and whispered something in her ear. Her expression blanched, and she pulled away.

"No, I'm not doing that!" she shrieked. "No! Gross!"

"What?" said Harry.

"Well…long ago, before wizardkind had modern plumbing," Sirius began, "they didn't use buckets or chamber pots or outhouses like the Muggles did. Instead, they just…well…"

"Oh, that _is_ gross!" said Hermione, catching on.

"What if you'd had diarrhea?" Harry added.

"You'd be amazed at what a Scouring Charm can get out," Sirius said in answer.

"I'm _not_ shitting myself in public where everyone can see," Barbara insisted. "You _know_ I can't do a Scouring Charm, Siri, and if you think I'm going to let _you_ do it, you've got rocks in your head."

"Nonsense, it will be good practice for changing Phoebe's diapers," said Sirius. Of course, he got enough experience from changing Harry's diapers for the fifteen months they had together, but Harry supposed Sirius wasn't about to mention that in front of Ron and Hermione. Barbara just shook her head.

"The only way Aunt Petunia was able to get Dudley out of diapers was to tell him they didn't make them anymore," Harry told her, trying to get her to laugh, but she didn't.

"I don't care," she said. "I'm close to you, Siri, but I draw the line at us going to the bathroom in front of each other."

But then her face got a little pale, and she bit her lip.

"We'll turn around while you do it," Hermione offered.

"Okay, _fine_ ," Barbara whimpered, and they all turned around. Later, as Sirius matter-of-factly performed the Scouring Charm on a humiliated Barbara, he told her it was all his fault.

 **TO BE CONTINUED…**


	26. Whirlwind Courtship

Another night on the floor was more than enough, so Sirius, Harry and Barbara got new furniture for their new house the very next day. Needless to say, they brought Andromeda, because they needed someone who actually knew about home decorating. Harry thought Sirius secretly felt a little sorry for him, because he told him he was free to pick out anything he wanted for his new bedroom. Harry got a double bed, a dresser, and a plant. Sirius looked even more sorry after that, and Harry realized he had just gotten the very basics. So he had Andromeda pick out things he hadn't thought of, like sheets, hangers, a lamp, a bookcase, a vanity, pillows, and a writing desk that came with a chair, plus things for the bathroom. Harry got four bath accessory sets (one for each season), with towels and a shower curtain to match.

Barbara had an employee help her design a kitchen. The employee had a little ribbon on his nametag that said "Ask Me About Furniture," so they figured he was the right guy. It seemed like the only two rooms that really mattered to Barbara were the baby room and the kitchen, and the baby room was already done. Harry thought she was relieved about that. After Harry was done picking out his bedroom set, he helped Andromeda and Sirius design the other rooms of the new house.

Harry only cared about his room, his bathroom and the living room. They bought a huge coffee table and a couch. Then they packed everything into a truck (Sirius used a handy little shrinking spell, and none of the Muggles could figure out how all the furniture fit into one truck), and put it where it belonged. Regulus and Remus Apparated over so they could help. Andromeda pointed to where everything should go, and the men did what she said. Together, they made the house a home.

They did the bedrooms last. Andromeda came up to Harry's room with him and folded his clothes with her wand, then made them put themselves in the dresser drawers. Always before, Harry just stuffed his clothes into the drawers when they came out of the wash, even at Hogwarts. Of course, he had to wear a uniform during the school week, but on the weekends and over summer vacation he just grabbed the first shirt he found and a pair of jeans. Ever since Aunt Petunia stopped doing his laundry for him (and Sirius hadn't exactly been on top of this sort of thing) the clothes may or may not have been washed, and they certainly weren't organized. Andromeda taught Harry to sort all his clothes into separate drawers so he could find them easily in the mornings. She did a fresh load of laundry before she left, too, gave them a week's worth of groceries, and taught them the Laundry Song:

 _If it's white, and red it's not, keep the water doubly hot._

 _If your colors are bright and bold, keep the water rather cold._

 _Never mix your red and blue, if you'd keep your colors true._

 _If your whites are stained, then reach for a jug of chlorine bleach._

"What would we do without Cousin Andromeda?" Sirius asked nobody in particular, flopping back down onto the couch. He was sipping some water, and that was a good sign, because it meant he wasn't craving alcohol. If he was, he'd be drinking grape juice.

"Lose our heads, probably," said Harry.

"Lose our clothes, accessories, and furniture," Barbara added.

"Now we just have to get our fireplace connected to the Floo network, and get Vlad's friend to install our electricity," Sirius told them. "Then there's the people coming to make our kitchen open-concept."

"And don't forget, we have to plan our wedding!" Barbara chirped.

"Oh, yes," said Sirius, putting his arm around her. "That, too."

…

Actually, they _were_ planning their wedding, in full swing, and knowing Sirius and Barbara, the engagement wouldn't last very long. Neither of them seemed to be big fans of planning—after all, Sirius's proposal hadn't been planned, and neither had their child. In fact, their whole _relationship_ was impromptu and spontaneous. Harry wasn't obsessed with planning, either, but he was a bit wary of how this would turn out.

"The first thing we need to do is set a date," Barbara declared, as they all sat down at their new big dining room table.

"You haven't set a date yet?" said Harry.

"Hey, no judging," said Sirius. "We're financially ready…"

"Emotionally ready," Barbara added.

" _Physically_ ready," Sirius said in a deeper voice, and she giggled.

"There are a whole lot of things you have to plan, though, aren't there?" said Harry. "I mean, I've seen weddings on Aunt Petunia's stupid reality TV, and they really go all out. The brides are obsessed with the dress, and they're always dramatic, and it's like the wedding is the only thing that matters to them. Everything has to be _perfect_."

Harry said the last word in a sort of mocking voice. He wasn't in a very good mood.

"Oh, it's no accident that they pick the most dramatic women," said Barbara with a smile. "If they picked normal women who had their heads on straight, the show wouldn't be interesting."

"It's _still_ not interesting," Harry told her, and Sirius laughed out loud.

"Some people don't have enough going on in their lives, so they enjoy seeing drama in other people's lives," Barbara said by way of explanation, and Harry wondered if that was why Aunt Petunia liked to watch those shows (and why she spent so much time spying on the neighbors). After all, she was one of the most boring people Harry knew.

"Isn't that kind of pathetic?" said Sirius, thinking along the same lines as Harry.

"It's extremely pathetic," Barbara agreed. "But it happens."

"Whatever," said Harry, thinking he had enough drama in his young life to fill several books. "We need to make the date before Phoebe is born, and before I go off to school again."

"With enough time for a honeymoon," Barbara added.

"How about the eighteenth?" Sirius suggested.

"That's perfect, a little over two weeks," said Barbara. "Who cares about long engagements?"

"I don't!" said Sirius. "I'm impatient. I want to get married now!"

"Oh, me too!" squealed Barbara. "We really _are_ meant for each other!"

They embraced, and Harry rolled his eyes. Obviously, Sirius and Barbara didn't think there was any planning they couldn't do in a single session.

"Next question," said Sirius, like they were doing one of those magazine quizzes. "Where will our wedding be?"

"Hawaii?" Barbara suggested.

"Why Hawaii?" said Sirius.

"I don't know, it's just where people get married, isn't it?" she said with a shrug.

"We should get married in London," Sirius told her. "If we were to be practical, I mean. Most of both our families live there."

"And we could get Regulus to cater!" Harry piped up, his mood improving.

"Absolutely." Barbara nodded. "We could have the reception in a hotel ballroom, but would you mind terribly if the ceremony was in a synagogue, with a rabbi marrying us? It would really make my parents happy, and, you know, yours are dead."

 _Tactful, that's Barbara_ , thought Harry, but Sirius didn't seem to mind. In fact, he thought it was a great idea. So they decided their wedding would be on August 18, 1992. Their reception would be in a hotel ballroom, and the ceremony would be at a synagogue in London. They picked out who to invite, then. They invited all the teachers, even Snape (they figured he would probably turn down the invitation), all the Weasleys, Holly's family, and the remaining Black family members, sans the Malfoys. They had debated over whether or not to invite "those pale, snobby pricks," as Sirius called them. It would be courteous, but nobody in the entire wedding party (except Regulus) particularly liked them. Sirius finally said Regulus could invite the Malfoys at his own wedding, and he would have Lucius Malfoy there over his dead body. They invited pretty much everybody Barbara knew, even Mr. Glacier.

They wanted to hire a live band, but since it was short notice, they would need to pay some money for that. Regulus had already agreed to pay for some of the wedding, help them out if they needed it, so they figured Regulus would probably pay for the band. They found wedding rings, and each said they would decide separately what to engrave on them. (Harry hoped Sirius would use "Put this ring back on right now, Barbara.") They decided to get Andromeda on board for the flowers and décor, and somebody they knew could take snapshots.

Barbara said her mother told her she should pick one of the groom's family members to be a bridesmaid, but since she had both Tonks women (Andromeda and Nymphadora), that was taken care of. Sirius remarked that she also had Sirius's future goddaughter-in-law, making Harry turn red, which made them laugh even more. Barbara said they needed to remember that a wedding was a happy occasion, and people who got stressed out over it were just too uptight.

…

Days later in August, Barbara seemed extra…sparkly, for want of a better word. Sirius and Harry were barely up, but she was fully dressed and ready to go at eight in the morning. Sirius stumbled out of his room in his underwear, and Harry stood at his door, ready to yell at them.

"What is it, Barbara?" Sirius mumbled.

"Today is a special day!" she said. "I'm going shopping for my wedding dress! My mother's coming, and so are all the bridesmaids, so they get to pick out their dresses, too!"

Harry remembered that Barbara wanted all her bridesmaids to pick out their own outfits. This was partly, she said, because that would reflect their different tastes, and Harry had to admit it would at least be interesting to see what they chose. Harry and Ron seemed to be hoping Holly would choose a low-cut dress. She didn't like it when boys stared, they knew, but her breasts were just _so_ amazing, neither of them could help it.

"Oh," said Sirius, yawning and leaning over the banister to look at his fiancée. "Well, have fun with that. You can spend as much as you like on your dress, but the bridesmaids have to pay for their own."

Barbara flounced her way towards the front door, looking as happy as any woman could be, and slammed it shut behind her.

"Are you sure it's smart to tell her she can spend as much as she wants?" said Harry groggily. "She could run you bankrupt."

"It'll be a long time before that happens," said Sirius, turning to head back into the bedroom. "We're keeping the rest pretty thrifty."

…

Harry slept for a few more hours that day. Most of his dream was that he had to help Barbara shop for a wedding dress, which was more of a nightmare; he just wanted to see Hermione's dress (and Holly's) but he never did. Finally, Sirius shook him awake around noon.

"Whuh?" Harry mumbled.

"Barbara's getting her dress today, as you know," said Sirius. "I thought we could rent your tuxedo."

"I don't want to go, _"_ Harry moaned, stuffing his face in a pillow. "Clothes shopping is torture."

"You have to come with, because you have to get fitted properly," Sirius told him.

"I'll bet I'm the same size I was last year."

"I'll bet you aren't."

"I'll bet I don't care."

" _Har_ -ry!" said Sirius in exasperation. "You are driving me two thousand percent nuts! It'll only take, like, a half an hour! We can go out for ice cream afterwards if you like, if you're good."

"Okay, fine," said Harry. "But I'm not doing my hair."

"Whatever," said Sirius, and left the room. Harry loved using the new bathroom he had all to himself, and took an especially long, hot shower that morning. Nobody would be barging in, and he didn't have to deal with how bad Sirius's bathroom smelled, or Barbara's bathroom, which smelled good, but was like a booby trap what with all the cords from her hair appliances dangling out like trip wires. Together they had more hair products than a beauty salon, and they both left their personal items scattered all over the sink, floor and toilet. Maybe the two of them _were_ meant to be, in the worst ways, but part of the reason Harry enjoyed having his own bathroom now was that he could keep things simple. Even the supplies he used when he did his hair belonged to Sirius, so he didn't have to keep anything in his bathroom except a toothbrush and deodorant, plus his cologne for "fancy" occasions.

Harry didn't like doing his hair, to be honest. Knowing there _was_ a good way to make it look good was nice, but did that mean he had to do it every day? He would do it at school, and at the wedding, but on the weekends and summer vacation? No. Harry decided that as a rule, if he didn't have to wear a tie, he didn't have to do his hair, either. He wasn't the kid he was last year who ran a bubble bath and sprayed shaving cream all over the bathtub and in the water and on his face, but he wasn't an adult who had to style his hair and wear a tie every single day, like Regulus did. It was good, just being where he was. So after he got dressed he just rubbed his hair with a towel, then went downstairs. It still felt weird, having more than one story in the house.

There was another reason Sirius wanted them out of the house. The electrician was coming today. They would have electricity, which almost nobody in Hogsmeade did. Sirius said they could have a TV in every room and central air conditioning. Sirius had long ago gotten their fireplaces all hooked up to the Floo network. They were settling in.

They used Side-Along Apparition to get to the nearest Muggle town, although they Apparated into the woods nearby, because you couldn't have somebody just appear out of nowhere in the street if you didn't want the Ministry of Magic swooping down on you like vultures a moment later. Harry didn't used to like Apparating, but after using Muggle transportation so much recently, he didn't mind it at all.

"Okay, we're here," said Sirius, taking Harry's hand and walking him into town.

They walked into a bridal shop, and Harry thought how weird it would be if, by pure coincidence, they walked into the same one where Barbara was. But they didn't. When they got in, Sirius located a salesperson organizing a wedding dress rack, wearing a vest and a smile.

"Can I help you, sir?" she asked pleasantly, and all Harry could think of was this one teacher he had back in primary school who corrected everyone's speech, and would have said something like, _I don't know, can you?_ But Sirius didn't say that.

"Yes, please," he said. "I'd like the best rental tuxedo you have for my godson, and I'd like it fitted properly."

Harry was glad he didn't say "junior's tuxedo" or anything like that. He wondered how "godson" sounded to the saleslady, like if she wondered why it was "godson" and not "son." But Harry knew Sirius would never call himself Harry's father, not because he didn't love Harry like a son, but out of respect to James. Harry didn't think he could ever call _anyone_ else, even Sirius, "Dad." He sure couldn't address Barbara as "Mum." Maybe Sirius could just call Harry his "young ward" or something. "Partner-in-crime," maybe. Harry would like that.

When he was getting fitted, Harry was wearing a dress shirt, the one he wore for his school uniform, a far cry from what he wanted to wear, which was his new T-shirt with "I went to Hogwarts and all I got was this lousy T-shirt" printed on it. Sirius told him to wear a dress shirt, because it would be the closest to the type of shirt he would wear at the wedding. That was one of the times Harry was grateful to Sirius. He might act slovenly and chill overall, but he still knew the important things about "adulting," as Barbara called it. Uncle Vernon probably knew them, too, but he wasn't willing to teach Harry.

The saleslady had to do it the Muggle way, of course, which wasn't too different from the wizard way, except she was handling the measuring tape, as opposed to doing something else while the measuring tape measured on its own. She must do it all the time, Harry thought, because it seemed like second nature. She measured his chest, his arms, his back, his legs, pretty much all of him. Sirius was reading a newspaper, but he was watching Harry as well with a smile.

At the end of the fitting, Harry got to try on something that fit his measurements. Maybe Sirius was right about getting fitted, he thought. The tuxedos he tried on didn't wrinkle or bunch up or squeeze or hang loose like the ones he'd rented in the past, where Sirius had basically just guessed at his sizes. The two of them exchanged a look and a grin, and Harry was pretty sure he knew what Sirius was remembering: the _first_ time Harry had ever had to rent a tux, which was important because that was the first time they had eaten dinner with Barbara's parents, and it was a disaster.

Harry remembered how he'd spent the evening at the old playpark nearby Magnolia Crescent, the one with the cement and the rickety aluminum playground equipment, with a gate any teenager could jump, and he'd watched a young woman catch a little girl as she slid down a slide, and he wondered if his mother would have done that for him, if she'd lived. And then Sirius later told him Lily did take him to the playpark, and he didn't even know if that made him feel better or worse about it.

Most of all, of course, he was remembering how getting ready had been sort of a disaster in itself, and Sirius had been Harry's escape hatch, as usual. Harry had spent too much time at the playpark, feeling lonely for his parents, and remembered he had to get ready for dinner too late. How he'd rushed home to wash his hair. How he didn't have deodorant, but he sure wasn't going to borrow Uncle Vernon's. How he was sure Sirius would be angry with him for being late, but instead his godfather had gotten another laugh out of the whole ordeal.

Back then, though, Harry had been afraid, all the time, that he would do something that would make Sirius abandon him, or hate him, or yell at him, or maybe even hit him. _Anything_ , Harry was convinced, would set him off. He just couldn't accept that there was someone who would look at him the way Aunt Petunia looked at Dudley, someone who could, who _would_ care for him not just when everything was going well, but when he was sick, hurt, scared, angry or bratty. Even when Harry had the flu, Sirius gave him a handy magical throw-up pot that cleaned itself.

Once they rented the tuxedo, the lady behind the counter put it in a bag and handed it to Harry, who swung it in a carefree way as they left the shop.

"You know what this reminds me of?" said Sirius.

"The first time we met Barbara's parents?" Harry grinned.

"Yes! How did you know?"

"That's what I was thinking of, too."

…

They did go out for ice cream later, just as Sirius promised. Now that Harry wasn't as sleepy, and he'd seen how good he looked in his rental tux, he wasn't feeling as bad about shopping. They were going to touch base with Barbara later, and Sirius knew he wasn't supposed to see the dress until the wedding day.

"It's going to be a maternity one, though," he was saying as he dug into a huge chocolate-fudge sundae.

"I know," said Harry. "When is Phoebe going to be born, anyway?"

"September 12, remember?" Sirius raised his eyebrows.

"Yeah, but it still feels like it's been so long," Harry said. "I know she's my sister, not my kid or anything, but still…"

"Sometimes I envy Barbara a little," Sirius admitted. "I mean, I guess I shouldn't, but she gets too be much closer to Pheebs than I may ever be. And as for the baby fat, I could stand to put on a little weight."

It was true. Even a year out of Azkaban, Sirius was still so thin.

"You'd have to go through labor and childbirth, though," Harry reminded him.

"I did already, at the birthing class," said Sirius. "Barbara gets to take that potion, remember? She was the one who had to deliver the doll-baby, anyway, and all I can say is, I may have had to give birth to a fake baby, but at least I'll never have to deliver one."

…

The seventeenth, the night before the wedding, was rapidly approaching, and Harry realized he was going to have Ron and Hermione over for a nice quiet evening while Sirius had his bachelor party and Barbara had her bachelorette party. Sirius was puttering around the house, and Harry noticed he didn't look the least bit nervous, maybe because things were happening so fast.

"I've seen bachelor parties on TV," Harry told him as Sirius went around the drawing room, picking up empty bottles and cans. "It's going to be wild. You're going to end up slipping a C-note into a lady's thong by the end of the night."

Sirius stared. "When were you watching _that?"_

" _Love and Lust,"_ Harry explained.

"Well, I'm not sure I'm going to be doing that, anyway," said Sirius, shaking his head. "Maybe if James was the best man, but for this wedding, Moony and Regulus are in charge, which means it will be quite the sedate affair. Barbara is the one who has to look out—with Holly and Tonks on board, she could very well end up in another continent."

"Andromeda will keep them in check," Harry said. "Isn't she, like, the ultimate mum?"

"Yeah, right," said Sirius. "Are we talking about the same person here? Andromeda got herself disowned for running off with a Muggle-born boy. Not that I don't admire that."

"Either way, I have to entertain my friends somehow on the seventeenth," Harry told him, "and I don't want to just be sitting around in front of the TV all evening."

"Why don't you ask Reg?" Sirius suggested. "If Andromeda is the ultimate mother, he's the ultimate host."


	27. Wedding Day Chaos

On the seventeenth, Sirius, Barbara and Harry traveled via the Floo network back to London, where they were having the wedding. They were to stay with Regulus overnight, which worked out, because after the wedding Harry would be staying with Regulus anyway, for the duration of the honeymoon. There were also plenty of spare rooms in that big manor.

That made Harry's plans for his friends on the night of the bachelor/bachelorette parties a little easier, he thought. Hermione lived in London, and Ron lived not too far away, in a place called Ottery St. Catchpole. But it didn't matter how far away he was, really, because he could use the Floo network, too, as long as his house wasn't across the ocean, which it wasn't. Every fireplace in #12 Grimmauld Place was hooked up to the Floo network, but they mostly used the one in the basement kitchen.

Not only that, but Regulus would be there himself, of course, before he left in the evening for Sirius's party, so Harry had someone to help him host.

"Is Holly going to stay here overnight, too?" Harry asked, knowing that Ron, who had a huge schoolboy crush on Holly, would be glad to see her. He also wondered if she and Regulus would sleep in the same room, if she did. Regulus wouldn't want to, but if he made her sleep in a different room, would she figure he didn't love her?

"Why would she do that?" Regulus said, looking through the bookcases in the drawing room, where they were both standing.

"Well, she lives in Hogsmeade, just like we do," said Harry. "Doesn't she have to help Barbara get ready?"

"She passed her Apparition test," Regulus replied. "She's just going to go to Barbara's parents' flat and help Barbara get ready there, with the other bridesmaids and Gwen."

"Will we have to help Sirius get ready, then?"

"I think he can get himself ready," said Regulus. "I'm sure he'll spend 90% of his getting-ready time on his hair."

"That's Sirius, all right," Harry agreed.

"Aha! Found it," said Regulus, taking a dusty book off the shelf. "Here it is—the guide to being the perfect host or hostess."

The book was very thick. Regulus laid it out on the drawing room table.

"Looks dusty," Harry commented.

"I've memorized all this," said Regulus. It wasn't in a bragging way, though. It was more in an offhand way, like if he could do it, anyone could.

"I don't think I can memorize it before tonight," Harry told him.

"You don't have to," said Regulus. "Just memorize a few basic things, and you can refer to the book for the rest. To begin with, your most important job is to keep your guests happy, and make them feel welcome."

"I can do that," said Harry. "They're my best friends, after all, not strangers."

"Good," said Regulus. "This book talks about alcohol, but of course, you're not going to be serving that."

"Maybe grape juice?" Harry suggested, thinking of Sirius.

"Ginger ale, I would suggest, in champagne glasses," Regulus told him. "Plenty of pop, too, in an ice bucket."

"Right," said Harry. "What about food?"

"Well, what do your friends like?"

"They're not picky," said Harry. He didn't know what Hermione's favorite foods were, but Ron would eat anything, he knew.

"I can just have Kreacher cook something nice, but not too fancy," Regulus replied. "He can do lots of host stuff. He's good at it, since in my parents' day, we were entertaining people all the time. It was often Uncle Cygnus and his family, but we had almost all of the families from the Sacred 28 over here at some point."

"Yeah, Sirius told me," said Harry, remembering how Sirius had told him once about how when he and his cousins were young, Kreacher would serve them dinner in the drawing room and the adults would eat in the basement kitchen, but when they got older, they could eat with the adults if they wanted, and Sirius and Andromeda would eat in the drawing room together, babysitting Regulus in his little green playsuit with the Black family crest on it, while Bellatrix and Narcissa ate downstairs with the adults.

Over the next few hours, they managed to get everything in gear for Harry's quiet evening with his two best friends. It would have been a lot harder if Regulus and Kreacher weren't there. Harry knew Sirius didn't like Kreacher, but Kreacher was helpful to Harry. Regulus was a kind master, and Kreacher's good behavior was the reward.

Finally, around seven, Regulus said he and Sirius were meeting Remus and Ted for the bachelor party. Barbara had already left, to meet the girls who knows where.

"Where are _you_ guys going, anyway?" Harry asked.

"To a bar, maybe," said Regulus. "I don't know if we should let Sirius drink, since he's been clean for so long. One might get him hooked all over again, we worry."

"You're not going to _drink?"_ said Harry in disbelief. "I mean, from what I see on TV—"

"That doesn't mean we have to do it," said Regulus. "I mean to say, we're all guys in our thirties, not our late teens. We certainly don't need to drink to have a good bachelor party."

"Oh, come on," said Harry. "What about the entertainment?"

"We'll see," Regulus replied, and Harry knew then he wasn't going to get any more out of him. He left, and until Ron and Hermione arrived, Harry had nobody but Kreacher, staring intently at him, for company.

It was a good time, though. Once the two of them showed up, they got a good game of wizard's chess going, Harry and Ron playing while Hermione watched, mostly. There was no TV, but Kreacher cooked them a nice spaghetti dinner, plus Ron brought some of his mother's cheesy casserole. There was a lot to talk about, too, including the wedding. Once the clock struck nine and they were all tired out, they sat back onto the new couch Regulus bought, sipping their soda.

"Blimey, I'm zonked," said Ron, yawning.

"Me, too," said Harry. "But if I spill any soda on this brand-new couch…"

"That's why he put plastic on it, I think," said Hermione, rubbing over it with her hand.

"Probably," said Ron. "But what's the point of having a new couch if you're always going to have plastic on it?"

"Rhetorical question," said Hermione.

"What do you suppose they're doing right now?" said Harry. "I mean, based on TV, there should be a bunch of prostitutes everywhere, and they'll all be drunk."

"I can't picture Regulus drunk," said Ron. "Remus, either."

"And if Regulus doesn't believe a woman and a man should share a room unless they're at least engaged, how would he approve of prostitution?" Harry added. "I'll bet it's all a lie."

"Yeah," said Hermione. "I'll bet most guys don't even do that at their bachelor parties. It's all talk."

"Barbara, though…" Harry looked at his friends, on either side of him. "Sirius said it would be wild, considering who her bridesmaids were."

"Well, she's not going to be drinking, seeing as she's heavily pregnant," Hermione reminded him. "Who knows? Maybe they'll hire some male strippers to come to someone's house. Andromeda's, probably."

" _Male_ strippers?" said Ron in shock. "There _is_ such a thing?"

"Of course," said Hermione. "Harry, don't you remember that episode of _Love and Lust_ we saw, with the bachelorette party? And the male stripper was dressed as a policeman?"

"If they hire a male stripper, he won't be dressed as a policeman," said Harry. "Barbara's _father_ is a policeman."

"Okay, a fireman then," said Hermione with a grin.

"Or a sailor," Ron added.

"Santa Claus," Harry suggested, and they all broke into laughter.

…

The night was a huge success. After Ron left, Harry wanted to ask Hermione to stay a little longer, but he wasn't sure what they would do, or what they _should_ do, so he just kissed her goodnight on the cheek.

Harry went up to bed after that. It was the first time he would ever sleep overnight at Regulus's house. It wasn't like being at home, either. It was the first truly magical house Harry had ever been in, to begin with, and it seemed just as magical as Hogwarts. The portraits whispered and sort of moaned. The mirrors talked. The wastebaskets threw up things you put in them.

After not being able to sleep, however, Harry decided to go upstairs to the top floor. He didn't know if Barbara and the girls had gotten back yet, but if they hadn't, he could at least ask Sirius what he did at the bachelor party. Would he tell the truth?

It was a long walk, but finally Harry arrived at the top floor, where Sirius and Regulus's rooms were. Regulus's door was shut, but Sirius's door was slightly ajar.

 _Good_ , Harry thought, and walked to the doorway—but stopped when he heard voices.

"I just don't know, Siri…" Barbara! Harry slammed himself back against the wall.

"Since when did you care?" Sirius was saying gently. "You never did before."

"Trying on the wedding dress and everything, I'm just worried people will, you know, judge us," Barbara said back. "Or at least judge _me_. Walking around as a pregnant woman, sometimes I remember how everyone knows I had sex just by looking at me."

"Only you would think of that," said Sirius, and Harry peeked into their room despite himself. Sirius and Barbara were both standing in front of a full-length mirror, Sirius behind Barbara, his arms encircling the baby bump. He was wearing a T-shirt and pajama pants, while Barbara was wearing a nightgown and, Harry suspected, not much else. She definitely wasn't wearing a bra, at least.

"You think it'll be fine?" she asked uncertainly.

"Sure," he said confidently. "We would never invite anyone who's judgmental in that way, would we?"

"What about Cassiopeia?"

"She's just glad we're getting married."

"Well, okay," said Barbara, and she tilted her head back, eyes closed, and smiled. Sirius kept his hands on the baby bump, but he slipped them underneath her nightgown.

"I felt that," he said warmly, and Harry realized Phoebe must have just kicked again.

" _You_ felt it," she said back, grinning. "She's always more active when you're around, you know."

To Harry's shock, Sirius ran his hands up and down her sides and finally up to her breasts. (Her _breasts!_ ) As in, he just reached up and _grabbed_ them. Well, not grabbed, maybe; he just cupped them gently in his hands. She sort of moaned a little and sighed pleasurably.

Harry knew he should leave just then, but he couldn't move, somehow. Barbara was Harry's godmother, basically, and he'd never been attracted to her, but maybe he was more attracted to what Sirius was doing to her—wondering if he would ever do that someday, and if he did, what it would feel like. They never even did this on _Love and Lust_.

"I go too far?" Sirius whispered into Barbara's hair.

"No," she breathed. "But be careful, they're lactating."

"Mind if I steal some of Phoebe's milk, then?" Sirius asked wickedly, and Harry put his hand over his mouth to cover the sound of the gasp. Oh my _God!_ People actually _did_ that?! Touching them was one thing, but…

"That would be wonderful," she said seductively. Sirius squeezed them, gently, though, and Harry remembered that time last year when Ron asked Sirius what happened when you squeezed a girl's breasts. Sirius hadn't answered him, but nothing happened when Sirius did it to Barbara. Harry had actually been expecting a huge squirt of milk, but it didn't happen.

"They're bigger," he commented.

"Well, they're not the only thing that's getting bigger, are they?" said Barbara with a smirk.

 _For Merlin's sake!_ Harry thought, as Sirius just grinned. If that had happened to Harry when _he_ was with a girl, he would have been embarrassed out of his mind. He knew he couldn't help it, but that just made it even more embarrassing, somehow, especially when it happened in class and he wasn't thinking of anything remotely sexual. That just didn't make any sense at all.

Barbara, so much shorter than Sirius was, turned her head up and stood on her toes, and he bent down, so they could kiss, but he still kept his hands everywhere under her nightgown. Harry could only imagine what that was like, to actually touch a girl's real breasts, but it must be wonderful. The prospect was certainly interesting…Sirius, in loose pants, looked just as "excited" as Barbara said he was, and that was really, really awkward, but then Harry realized it was happening to him, too.

What was going on, anyway? This was his godfather and godmother he was looking at! He knew this would happen if he kissed Hermione or watched a suggestive scene on TV, or sometimes for no reason at all, but _now?_ It was so embarrassing. Harry stepped away from the doorway and pressed himself into the wall when Sirius moved over to the door and shut it with a snap. It was only too clear what they would be doing soon.

Harry walked back downstairs to bed, and thought about it. Being an adult would be nice—tall, handsome, unafraid to kiss a girl or even put his hands on her breasts. Or it wouldn't be so bad being a kid again—carefree, feeling as indifferent towards the girls as he did towards the boys, not being horrified and confused by what his body was doing, that is, how it was changing, against his will or otherwise. But he didn't like being stuck in the middle at all.

…

Overnight, Harry had a dream about what he'd seen with Sirius and Barbara, only instead of Sirius and Barbara, it was Hermione and himself. And even though, in real life, Hermione was still relatively flat-chested, in his dream she was more on par with Holly. She wasn't pregnant, like Barbara was, and she was beautiful.

As his hands explored her chest, she reached down and did some exploring of her own, which felt the best of anything in this dream so far. Just as he'd moved his hands to her cheeks to give her a romantic kiss, he heard someone—not Hermione—saying his name, and he woke up.

"Harry," Sirius repeated. "Harry, are you awake?"

The light flicked on, near-blinding Harry. Sirius had awakened him from something wonderful. Even though he realized now it had all been a dream, it had seemed so real. He swore he could feel every single thing happening, and all of it felt good.

"What d'you want?" Harry groaned, rolling onto his back and hoisting himself up to sit up on his elbows. When he did, he felt something sticky and wet between his legs, and groaned again. He didn't feel so good anymore.

"Well, I just want to tell you, it's Bride Central over at Barbara's parents' place," Sirius was saying, "and I want you to start getting ready soon too, okay? The ceremony starts at five, and we have to be at the synagogue by half-past four, so we don't cut it too close."

"You'll help me get the tux on?"

"Sure."

Harry put on his glasses and looked at Sirius, who was beaming ear-to-ear, as if nothing could upset him on this special day. He was still in his pajamas and bathrobe, his hair all tousled.

"You look pleased with yourself," Harry commented.

"It _is_ my wedding day, in case you've forgotten," Sirius said, still smiling.

Harry thought of Sirius and Barbara last night—his hands under her gown, her chin tilted up so he could kiss her, the soft sound of their voices…

"I guess you guys really do love each other, don't you?" he said eventually.

"Well, I've said it before, I can really see myself starting a life with her." Sirius paused. "I mean, I already _have_ started a life with her."

"Okay, but…" Harry let out his breath. Sirius was in _such_ a good mood, so he couldn't possibly get angry at what Harry had in mind. "In that case, I was wondering…well…"

"Well, what?" asked Sirius, his smile not fading, but he raised his eyebrows slightly.

"It's just…if you've already _done_ everything, how is it supposed to be special?" Harry said, all in a rush. He was thinking about their encounter last night, of course, but he wasn't about to say so.

"What's 'everything'?" Sirius said with a smirk.

"Oh, anything special a couple could do together," said Harry, trying to sound aloof.

"You mean, interesting conversations? Dinner dates? Parties?" Sirius said teasingly.

"Not that kind of special," said Harry. "You know what I mean."

"It will be special because this is the first time we'll do it as a married couple, I suppose," Sirius said thoughtfully. "At least we'll know what we're getting ourselves into. We're comfortable enough with each other that it won't be awkward."

"I sure feel sorry for Regulus, then," Harry told him.

"Why?" Sirius asked, coming to sit on the end of Harry's bed.

"He's going to be a total virgin on _his_ wedding night, that's why," said Harry. "When Holly presents herself to him—naked, probably—he won't know what to do."

"Oh, he knows what to do, all right," said Sirius. "He just doesn't believe it should be done before marriage. Besides, what do you mean, _presents_ herself to him? Like a wedding gift or something?"

"You know…after she changes out of her wedding dress in the bathroom, she ceremoniously steps out, while he's already waiting on the bed." Harry swallowed. "And between them, nothing will ever be the same again."

"Holly certainly isn't going to be changing in the bathroom, I guarantee it," Sirius said. "I'll bet she just steps into their bedroom, veil and all, and has him undress her himself, piece by piece."

"Then does she undress _him?"_

"I don't know, I haven't really thought about it," said Sirius. "Why are you so worried, anyway? Reg can take care of himself."

"Because…because with all this talk of weddings…" Harry sighed. "I don't know, I guess I got to wondering if mine would be okay, too."

"Why were you worried about that?" Sirius asked.

"It's just…what if…" Harry sat up in bed, leaning against the pillow. "What if I can't _do_ it?"

"Well, uh…" Sirius looked a little surprised. "Some of the time that's a psychological problem, like performance anxiety or something. It happens to the best of us. If you find a way to relax—"

"No, no, not _that!"_ said Harry, reddening at the thought. "I mean, like, what if I'm too embarrassed? Or I forget what to do? What if it's like you said, and it's just too awkward?"

"Look. Harry…" Sirius put his hand on Harry's knee. "This isn't my parents' generation. Gone are the days when you're married off at eighteen to somebody you don't know from a hole in the ground. You have time to get used to your body, time to get used to your partner's body, and you don't have to do anything, including marriage itself, until you both want to."

"But I thought you did it with Barbara on your first date."

"Well, we both wanted to," said Sirius simply.

"On TV they make it look so easy," Harry lamented, lying back down again, arms behind his head. "The couple will just be kissing, and they cut the scene, and next thing you know they're lying on the bed or the floor naked, sighing in ecstasy, talking about how 'great' the other person was. And you wonder…what happened?"

"That's just for people's fantasies, though," Sirius told him. "It's not real life."

"But do people just take their clothes off and _do_ it? How do they know when to stop?"

"They stop when it's over," Sirius said, and Harry swore he was trying not to smile a little. "And it's _usually_ over when the man comes, though not always. Hopefully he can last a few minutes—but a newbie can be overwhelmed…"

"Comes? What…what's that?" Harry felt like he was asking stupid questions, but he had to know.

"You probably already know what it is, just not by name," Sirius told him, a slightly scrutinizing sort of look on his face. "I don't know if you've ever done it solo, and trust me, I'm not going to ask. But the point is, when you get sexually aroused and reach a sort of climax, the climax is what people refer to when they say 'come.' Think about when you have a wet dream, when you've reached that climax in your sleep."

"I don't know," Harry said, feeling miserable. "It's all so confusing."

"It's okay, Harry," said Sirius calmly. "That's what I'm here for. Listen…sometimes a guy will have an arousing dream and when he wakes up, his pajamas are kind of sticky and wet, but it's not pee. _That's_ what I'm talking about."

"Well…it's never happened to me," Harry lied. Actually, it had, several times this summer—including this very morning. But now, under this context, he felt a little embarrassed about it.

Sirius blinked, shrugged, and finally said mildly, "You don't have to lie to me, you know. Who do you think washed out your pajamas the next morning? Even Barbara noticed it once, when it was her turn to do the laundry—"

" _Barbara?!_ " Harry cried, feeling mortified.

"Relax," said Sirius. "She's familiar with the concept."

"That just makes it worse," moaned Harry, covering his burning-hot face with his hands.

"I would've brought it up to you right then, but I figured if you didn't know what was going on, you'd come to me on your own." Sirius looked at Harry sideways. "Why didn't you?"

"Because I was so embarrassed," Harry confessed.

"It's not embarrassing, it's normal," Sirius said firmly, and when Harry looked doubtful, he added, "Messy, yes, but nothing to feel ashamed of. Your body's no different than anyone else's."

"I thought _everyone's_ body was different."

"Well, you know what I mean," said Sirius, and grinned. "No fangs, no wings, no retractable claws…"

The joke made the atmosphere lighter, and Harry found himself laughing. But then, he would need to tell the truth. Considering what they were just talking about, even if Harry said he just wanted to do his own laundry all of a sudden, Sirius would know why.

"I think it's happened to me again today," Harry said, as if he hadn't noticed it before.

"That's fine," Sirius told him. "Just get in the shower, and I'll take care of it."

"Thanks," said Harry. "But could I ask you one more thing?"

"Yeah?"

"I just wanted to know…" Harry shrugged. "What was it about Barbara that was different?"

"What do you mean?" Sirius asked.

"In school you couldn't commit yourself to a long-lasting relationship, but here you are, marrying a woman," said Harry. "What was it about Barbara that made you able to commit?"

"Well, don't tell her I said this," said Sirius, "but I'm not sure it was anything much to do with her. I think _I'm_ the one who changed."

Harry tried to think of something to say to that, but he couldn't. Sirius just smiled, squeezed Harry's shoulder, stood up, and left the room.

…

That had been around noon, and they decided to get ready at 3:30. Harry lounged around in a T-shirt and jeans for most of the day, doing things like playing Gobstones and wizard's chess with Sirius, while Kreacher served them cookies and punch. It was like a chill pre-wedding party. One good thing about being a boy, Harry found, was that when you were going to a big event like a wedding, you didn't have to spend the entire day getting ready.

3:00 came, so Sirius and Regulus took showers, and at half-past, they all had to get ready. They went into Regulus's bedroom on the top floor to do it. This was a good arrangement, as both Regulus and Sirius had their own bathrooms right off their bedrooms, like Harry did back home. Harry had taken a shower that morning, but he took another, mostly to get his hair wet so he could style it properly. Regulus told them to get all their grooming stuff out of the way before they got dressed, because otherwise the tuxedos could get dirty.

Wearing his emerald-green dressing gown, Harry had Sirius style his hair, while Regulus gelled his hair and shaved. Usually, Harry did his hair himself, but he thought it would look better if an expert was in charge on a day like today. He was sure Barbara was doing Hermione's hair, anyway. Regulus helped Harry on with the tux while Sirius shaved. Then they had to watch Sirius style his hair.

Sirius usually dried his hair with his wand, but today he used a hairdryer so he could style it straight and neat, sort of like Lucius Malfoy wore it, only black and not as long. Sirius's hair went down a little past his shoulders, and though it was naturally straight, it could look a little messy if he didn't use the hairdryer. He also lovingly brushed it one hundred times and then tied it into a ponytail with a silk red ribbon, like he usually did for formal events.

"All right," he said. "What time is it?"

"About 4:00," said Regulus, glancing at his watch as he tied Harry's bow tie.

"Don't you have to get dressed, too?" Harry asked. Sirius and Regulus were both still in their dressing gowns.

"We've still got thirty minutes," said Sirius, looking at himself admiringly in the mirror. "Reg, I'll help Harry with the rest while you go put your tux on, all right?"

"Very well," said Regulus, opening his dresser.

Sirius was holding Harry's new cufflinks, the ones that used to belong to James. Harry didn't know how to put cufflinks on, so he was glad Sirius did it for him. Sirius had gold cufflinks, too, and Regulus had the Black family heirloom cufflinks he'd inherited from his father, Orion. They were emerald-green. One had a B on it, the other a snake.

"This is it, Sirius," said Harry. "Only a few hours from now, you'll be a married man."

"Nobody ever thought they would live to see the day," said Regulus. "Sirius, the rebel, signing up for the old ball and chain."

"We need to give him something old, something new, something borrowed and something blue," said Harry, quoting _Love and Lust_.

"Like what?" said Sirius.

"I could turn that ribbon blue," Regulus suggested, and with one tap of his wand he turned Sirius's hair ribbon blue.

"Good," said Harry. "The suit can count for something old, since he's had it ever since he got out of school. What should be the borrowed thing?"

"I could trade cufflinks with you, Sirius," Regulus suggested.

"Perfect," said Sirius. "Now we just need something new."

"I'll be the something new," said Harry with a grin. "I've never been in a wedding before, after all."

"Does that count?" said Regulus.

"Why not?" Sirius replied.

Sirius's tux was something old, Harry was something new, Regulus's cufflinks were something borrowed, and Sirius's hair ribbon was something blue. After Harry was all dressed and so was Regulus, Sirius got himself dressed while Harry sprayed his Old Spice cologne behind his ears and on his wrist. Regulus wore something called Clive Christian No.1, which Harry had never even heard of before, but Sirius wore Old Spice, too.

When they were finally ready, it was a little past 4:30, just as they'd planned. It had taken about an hour and a half to get ready.

"Paolo will be along any moment now, I'm sure," Regulus said casually.

"Who's Paolo?" said Harry.

"My personal chauffer," Regulus explained. "He's going to drive us to the synagogue. You called him, right, Sirius?"

"Why would I call him?" said Sirius, spraying a small amount of Old Spice on the back of his neck. "He's _your_ personal chauffer."

"It's your wedding!" Regulus said back. "You were supposed to arrange the date with him!"

"I thought _you_ were!" Sirius cried.

"Did _anyone_ call Paolo?" Harry asked them.

"It appears not," said Regulus, glaring at Sirius. "But luckily, this is just the sort of problem a best man is supposed to solve. I'll call him on my beeper."

"You do that," said Sirius.

Regulus called Paolo on his beeper, and took it in the other room, where they could hear his voice rising in agitation. Once the call was over, he stomped back into the bedroom, looking like he could tear the place apart with his teeth.

"This is unbelievable!" Regulus shouted. "He's at a _wedding_ , he says, and he can't make it! Can you _imagine?"_

"The irony is thick with this one," said Sirius. " _Now_ what? Could you drive us over?"

"My car is in the shop," Regulus said, pinching his nose with worry. "Some idiot teenager bumped into me from behind at a stoplight."

"Cab?" Harry suggested.

"They take fifteen to twenty minutes just to arrive, and we haven't got that kind of time," said Regulus restlessly.

"Barbara's Ford Fiesta is back in Hogsmeade," Sirius lamented. "Can we Apparate there?"

"Too many Muggles," said Regulus.

"Wait a minute…" Sirius appeared to be thinking. "Not to worry, men! I've got an idea!"

"What?" said Regulus, looking wary. Sirius didn't answer, just grabbed Harry's hand with one hand, Regulus's hand with the other. All three of them ran outside, #12 Grimmauld Place, shrinking into nothing behind them, and Sirius held up his right hand.

Harry was almost knocked backwards as a huge, obnoxiously purple triple-decker bus pulled up out of nowhere with a bang.

"The Knight Bus!" said Regulus. "Well, beggars can't be choosers…"

"What's this?" said Harry, but that was when a pimply-faced teenager, maybe around eighteen, stepped off the bus. He spoke in a strong Cockney accent, and started to introduce himself as Stan Shunpike, the conductor.

"Yes, yes, we know!" said Regulus hurriedly. "Look, we're late to a wedding. How fast can you get us to the synagogue on Sweet Tea Valley Road?"

"Hmm…'bout ten minutes, I'd say," he said thoughtfully.

"Great, just great," said Regulus, glancing at his watch. "We won't get there before 4:45! Fifteen minutes before the wedding starts! Oh, I am just _furious_ with Paolo!"

"Blimey, if he's like this now, just wait until his _own_ wedding day," Sirius muttered to Harry, and Harry grinned.

"Be cool, Regulus," he said. "Sirius's wedding will go off whether we get there on time or not."

"As long as Barbara doesn't think I left her at the altar or anything," said Sirius. "But knowing her, she'll be late, too."

Regulus paid for their tickets, and Harry paid an extra two Sickles of his own, for hot chocolate. The bus gave a loud BANG and everyone was catapulted forward. They drove for a few more minutes at a very high speed, Harry clinging to his seat with a death grip, his eyes closed. Just then, Regulus got another call on his beeper.

"WHAT?!" he shouted into it. There was some more talking, then he gave an aggravated groan and hung up. "Oh my GOD!"

" _Now_ what?" said Sirius.

"Robert can't make it!" Regulus shouted. "There was an armed robbery in a shop on the other side of the city, and all local police units got called for backup, including Robert! Now the perps are fleeing and they've even got helicopters after them! Someone _else_ is going to have to walk Barbara down the aisle!"

"But who?" said Harry. This was unbelievable.

"I don't know!" Regulus said, about to tear his hair out in frustration.

"Want your 'ot chocolate?" said Stan Shunpike, appearing in front of them. Regulus glared, but Harry took his hot chocolate. It was delicious, until the bus jolted again and Harry spilled it all over his tuxedo.

"OW!" Harry yelled as the hot chocolate burned him, but then he was more concerned about the tux. He could already feel the stain setting for life. Maybe the store wouldn't take it back!

"You okay?" said Sirius, looking around.

"Oh, no!" Harry cried. So far, he'd been chill about being in the wedding, but now that he had done something dumb _himself_ , it was a lot different. "I spilled hot chocolate on my suit, Sirius! I'm going to ruin _everything!"_

"Calm down," said Sirius. "See, Reg? Harry still forgets I'm a wizard."

Luckily, Sirius was able to get the stain out of the tuxedo with a Scouring Charm, and he cast a Cooling Charm on Harry, to help with the burn. Harry clung to Sirius after that, wanting to be protected next time everyone got jangled around in the bus.

BANG! It didn't make any difference. Sirius's face was propelled into the window, Regulus smacked into him, and Harry toppled off onto the floor, slamming his head hard on the underside of the seat.

Next thing you know they were by the side of the road. Harry realized Sirius was holding him in his arms, and Regulus was pressing an ice pack on the side of his head. Stan Shunpike was leaning over them, looking concerned.

"Look, 'e's comin' to," he said.

"Can you hear me, Harry?" Regulus was saying. "Harry?"

Harry groaned.

"You've had a bit of a fall, Harry," said Sirius. "Smacked your head. You were out like a light."

"The wedding will be ruined!" Harry cried. "I've made us _late!_ I'm sorry, Sirius!"

"Well, he remembers about the wedding," Sirius said. "That's a good sign."

"Don't worry, Harry, I've called Holly," said Regulus soothingly. "Barbara understands. She just wants to make sure you're okay."

Harry didn't know if he was okay. He was torn between worrying about the wedding and trying not to throw up.

"Does he have a concussion?" Sirius asked.

"I don't know, he might." Regulus sounded worried.

"Everything is ruined because of me," said Harry, feeling miserable. "I'm the worst groomsman ever!"

"Naw, that title goes to me, when I got shit-faced at your parents' wedding and failed at doing the Gator," said Sirius. "We can postpone it until you're feeling better, Harry."

"Whatever happened to 'the show must go on'?" Harry moaned.

"If you have a concussion, Harry, I'm not sure you can be in the wedding," said Regulus.

"Then I don't have a concussion!" said Harry, horrified to find himself near tears.

"You want we take 'im to the hospital?" Stan suggested.

"NO!" Harry shouted, but Regulus didn't listen. The Knight Bus got them to the hospital within two minutes, and Stan Shunpike said the ride was on him, since it was kind of his fault Harry got injured in the first place.

So when Harry was supposed to be at the wedding, Sirius was leading him by the hand through the doors of a children's hospital in London—the same one, Harry realized, where Dr. Grant worked. Dr. Grant was his pediatrician and a very kind woman, so Harry felt a little less worried when he found out they were seeing her.

"Oh, Harry, honey," she said, as soon as they got into her office. "What on Earth happened?"

"I fell off the seat on a bus and got a concussion," he mumbled, holding the ice pack to his head.

"Well, we don't know that for sure," she said, gesturing for him to sit up on the examining table. "Let's have a look, okay?"

Harry was too upset to say anything more. Reading the clock on the wall, he saw that it was a few minutes past five. As the pediatrician examined him for signs of a concussion, he just sat there, swallowing and swallowing. She asked him a few questions, like whether he felt nauseous or whether his vision was blurred, but it was hard to answer because he felt if he did, he might cry. This was supposed to be the happiest day of Sirius's life, and Harry felt he'd ruined it all.

"I-I feel kind of nauseous," he said in a shaky voice. "But—but I think I'm just nervous about the wedding."

Dr. Grant had Harry do things like follow her finger with his eyes, name every person in the room, walk in a straight line, things like that.

"How is he, Dr. Grant?" said Sirius finally, his voice laced with worry, and Harry thought maybe he was worried about missing his wedding day.

"Looks like he doesn't have a concussion," she declared. "Harry's just a little shaken up, that's all. I think he's all clear to go the wedding, but he should be careful. Don't dance too crazily at the reception, for example."

"I don't dance, anyway," Harry told her.

Sirius seemed relieved, and hugged Harry very tight. Then he took him by the hand again and they walked out of the hospital.

"I'm sorry about that, Sirius," said Harry. "You sounded worried about missing your wedding."

"I wasn't worried about the wedding, mate, I was worried about _you_ ," said Sirius, and Harry hugged his arm. But when they looked around, they realized the Knight Bus was gone.

"I'd rather walk to the synagogue than go on that bus again," Regulus grouched.

That was when The Miracle happened. Just as they were walking along the sidewalk, their feet being their only transportation, a police car pulled over to the curb beside them and rolled down its window.

"Officer Raffelovich?!" Harry cried in shock. "But—that robbery—I thought you couldn't come!"

"I got the fucker, and tased him," said Robert. "He's on his way to the station right now with Officer Greene, and I'm on my way to the synagogue. I'll miss my baby girl's wedding over my dead body. Need a ride?"

"Yes!" said Sirius, and they all piled in. Robert put on the siren, and they cut through traffic and red lights to get to the synagogue ASAP.


	28. Success

It was 5:15 before Robert, Harry, Sirius and Regulus arrived at the synagogue. Siren still wailing, Robert cut through three lanes of traffic to get to the curb. Other motorists must have thought he was on another high-speed chase. Finally, he turned the siren off, parallel-parked by a side door, and shifted the car into park.

"All right, we're here," Robert said. "Think we can pull this off, men?"

"Absolutely," said Sirius. Harry couldn't help but marvel at him. On TV, grooms were always frantic on their wedding days. Regulus had been slightly manic since the beginning of the day, and Harry had freaked out once he hit his head, but Sirius stayed chill the whole time.

"Why are we going in the side door?" Harry asked, still holding the ice pack to his head. Even if he didn't have a concussion, there was a bump there.

"It's where all the groomsmen gather before the ceremony," Sirius explained. "When we walk out, we'll be right by the altar. Then the bridesmaids will walk up the main aisle, and finally the bride. Once the ceremony is over, the groomsmen will walk back down the aisle with whatever bridesmaid they're paired up with. So until the ceremony is over, Harry, you just have to stand there and watch."

"Okay," said Harry, even though in his head, he thought, _Not okay_. If he could black out and make them late, what other horrible things were waiting to happen?

Robert left them, then, since he had to find Barbara in order to walk her up the aisle, and the rest of them crowded into the side door, to the groomsmen's room. It was sort of like a combination bathroom/sitting room, and not very big, but not so small that you couldn't turn around. Remus and Ted Tonks were already there.

"Harry!" said Remus, looking shocked. "We heard you got a concussion! Are you okay?"

"We thought he had a concussion," said Sirius. "But we stopped by the hospital, and he actually didn't."

"Just a little detour," said Harry, forcing a smile. Now that his head pain was going away, nerves were starting to set in, and it wasn't even his wedding! _Why_ was he so nervous if he didn't even have to do anything?

"Any more we have to do to get ready?" Ted asked, adjusting his bow tie in the big mirror.

"I'd better fix my hair," said Sirius, pulling a brush out of his pocket. "Harry, you should probably comb yours, too."

"I don't have a brush," said Harry, so he had to wait his turn while Sirius brushed his hair another one hundred times, then tied it back up again. Then he gave the brush to Harry, but Harry's hair was getting all droopy from the mousse, so Sirius had to do Harry's hair all over again, in the sink. Once Harry's hair was fixed, they discovered his cologne had been washed off, so he had to borrow from the samples on the sink.

"There," said Sirius finally, turning Harry around to look in the mirror. "If I didn't know better, I'd say that was James at twelve or even thirteen."

"All except the green eyes, of course," said Remus fondly.

"Yeah, right," said Harry.

"What do you mean?" asked Sirius.

"Well…my dad was so wonderful and perfect and smart," Harry explained. "And yet, look at _me_. I'm just so afraid I'm going to do something dumb and ruin the wedding. I'll bet nothing embarrassing ever happened to my dad."

" _Everyone_ has embarrassing moments, Harry, even James," Remus said. "He just knew how to laugh at himself, that's all."

"Remember that time in second year when he sat on that steak-and-kidney pie?" Sirius said, starting to grin.

"Or that time in sixth year when Snape stole his towel when he was taking a shower," said Remus, "and he had to walk all the way across the locker room, naked, to get another at the towel desk?"

"Actually, that one I could've lived without," said Sirius, putting his hands on his hips. "You'd think he was in a photo shoot for _Playwitch_ magazine or something, the way he was parading around like that."

Harry just stared at them. There was no _way_ he'd ever be able to strut across a locker room completely naked, especially if Slytherins were jeering at him.

"Were there _girls_ there?" he asked.

"Yeah," said Sirius. "After all, the Quidditch locker rooms are coed. That was one of the things I liked about them…"

"What was Snape doing in the locker rooms, though?"

"To steal James's towel, that's what," said Remus. "Sirius and I were just waiting in there to keep him company, and we offered to get him another towel, of course."

"But to get back at Snivellus, he got it himself instead." Sirius laughed.

" _Buck_ naked?" said Harry.

"Oh, you did _not_ just go there," Sirius said.

"Sirius used a disproportionate amount of deer puns in his best man speech," Remus told Harry. "Don't you start using them, too!"

"James was a DEER friend of mine," recited Sirius. "He had many enDEERing qualities. It was so nice how he always FAWNED over Lily. You could say he DOEted on her, even. He made a STAGgering difference in my life…"

"STOP it, Sirius!" said Remus, his hands over his ears.

Everyone else was laughing, though, even Regulus. That was when they heard the bridal march from outside. It was time to go.

"Oh, no!" said Harry, suddenly feeling sick again.

"It's okay," said Ted, putting one hand on his shoulder. "You'll be fine, kid. Weddings are as easy as pie."

"Think of the deer puns," said Sirius.

Harry felt like his legs had turned to lead, though. It was awful!

"You guys don't understand!" he told them. "All of you have been in at least one wedding before! Ted, you had your own, Sirius and Remus, you had my parents'…"

" _I've_ never been in a wedding before," Regulus pointed out.

"Yes, but since you are literally perfect in every way and seem to know what to do in any given social situation, I don't imagine it would be a problem for you." Harry didn't mean for the words to sound so bitter, but they did.

"Hey, come on," said Regulus, his cheeks turning a bit pink. "You're exaggerating."

"See? He's humble, too," said Sirius.

"Whatever, we've got to get going," said Remus. "The bridesmaids can't walk down the aisle until we show up at the altar."

Harry was still freaking out, just like the actual groom was supposed to on TV. With the exception of Quidditch, he _hated_ doing things in front of an audience, and who knows how many people were in that crowd? Regulus, Remus and Ted were by the door, waiting, and Sirius turned back to Harry, crouching down so that they were eye-level.

"You okay, mate?" he said gently. "Feeling a little wobbly?"

Harry nodded, unable to even speak.

"Well, I just want you to remember, even if you did a million and one stupid, embarrassing things today and wrecked the entire ceremony, everything would still be all right," said Sirius, setting one hand on Harry's shoulder. "The point is that Barbara and I love each other deeply, and who cares if this little party isn't perfect, because we aren't, either. Okay?"

"Okay," Harry said in a smaller, slightly higher-pitched voice than usual, which he hated.

"Now, I'm going to go out the door first, then Reg, then Moony, then Ted, and you last." Sirius's voice was still gentle. Then he took a packet of tissues out of his pocket and handed them to Harry. "Here, take these."

"I'm not going to _cry_ ," said Harry defensively.

"They're for your bridesmaid," Sirius explained. "If she cries a little when you walk back down the aisle with her, just offer her a tissue."

"Well, all right." Harry took the tissues and stuck them in his pocket.

Sirius gave Harry a quick squeeze, then drew himself up to his full height and strode out to the altar; Harry envied his self-confidence like never before. Regulus went next, then Remus, then Ted. Harry felt like he was getting rooted to the ground again, but Ted grabbed his arm.

The synagogue was full of people. There was a rabbi up by the altar, holding a book. By the time Harry got there, Sirius was waiting, and all the groomsmen were lining up next to him. Harry was the last in line. The bridal march kept playing on an organ. Harry couldn't believe he was actually, finally here. The synagogue was packed with all their guests. Then the bridesmaids started walking down the aisle.

Hermione was first. Her dress was violet, tighter and held up by straps at the top, with a huge puffy skirt fringed by white eyelet lace. Her hair was down, in big, bouncy chocolate-brown curls, courtesy of Barbara's curling iron, no doubt. Harry liked her hair that way the best. You couldn't see her shoes under the poofy floor-length skirt, but they must have been heels or at least wedges, because she looked a little taller. Harry didn't actually like Hermione in heels so much, because it made her taller than he was, but hopefully that wouldn't be the case in a few years. Either way, he thought she looked wonderful. Each bridesmaid was carrying a bouquet of flowers; Hermione was carrying violets.

Next was Andromeda Tonks. Her hair, brown like Hermione's but a lighter shade, was styled up on top of her head and held with a pearl comb. Her dress was shades of blue and green, seeming to change color as she walked, floor-length like Hermione's, with loose short sleeves. There were a few gold tassels on it, too. It was a shapeless dress, making her look even thinner than she already was, but it looked nice. She was holding mums.

Then came Andromeda's daughter, Nymphadora. Her dress was yellow, tight and strapless, reaching her knees. She did have a nice figure. She had opted for yellow hair, too, to match, with a few black streaks. She was wearing stiletto heels, black ones. For her flowers, she had chosen marigolds.

And then, finally, the music got louder, grander. Everyone stood up. The bride was walking down the aisle.

Barbara's dress was lacy, all the way down to the floor, tight everywhere, including on the baby bump, but not so tight that she wouldn't be able to dance. She wasn't trying to hide it, she was flaunting it—so much for any worry about being judged. It was a sleeveless dress, but she had long white, lacy gloves that covered almost all of her arms. Her hair was left down, tumbling in wave after wave of gorgeous dark curls halfway down her back. Her veil was lacy, like the dress, and she was wearing a halo of flowers. She was also holding a bouquet of roses. Harry could honestly say Barbara had never seemed more beautiful to him than she did in that moment. Robert, still in his policeman's uniform, was holding her arm.

Holly was behind Barbara, holding the train of her dress. As usual, she was the most beautiful young woman in the room. The one thing Harry could say about Holly is that you would never guess she had been in Gryffindor. She looked like Regulus's Slytherin princess, which was probably what she'd been going for. The dress was extremely tight, floor-length, and all black, except for a few hints of emerald-green. Holly liked to wear tight clothing, because it showed off her curvy figure, a smaller waist but big hips and breasts. Of course, the dress was low-cut; if she had even sneezed, her breasts might have popped right out and smacked her in the chin. Her silver jewelry gleamed off all the lights in the synagogue. Robert was holding her flowers in his other hand, the one that wasn't occupied by Barbara, since she couldn't hold both her flowers _and_ Barbara's train. Her flowers were poppies. Her medium-brown hair was styled into a French braid, and her shoes were emerald-green high heels.

When they finally got up to the altar, Holly took her place beside Tonks, and Robert paused, Barbara still hanging on his arm. Sirius was smiling at Barbara fondly.

"My goodness, honey…" Robert sounded extremely choked-up. His hazel eyes, completely identical to both his daughter's and his father's, were filled with tears. "It seems like just yesterday I was holding your hands and teaching you how to walk…and now I'm holding your arm, walking you up the aisle."

Robert coughed, and it looked like maybe he was the one who needed a tissue.

"Don't think of it as losing a daughter, Daddy," Barbara said softly as he let go of her arm. "Think of it as gaining a son."

Robert glanced at Sirius; then they were all shocked as he jumped up and threw his arms around Sirius's neck (he was pretty short, too, only an inch or two taller than Barbara).

"Welcome to the Raffelovich family," he mumbled. "You are always welcome among us…my son."

The look of shock on Sirius's face was unbelievable, but maybe he had still been longing for a father, and Robert was a good father-in-law to have. Harry looked to his right, and Regulus, Remus and Ted were all beaming. The bridesmaids were wiping their eyes.

"Take good care of her, mate," Robert was saying, clapping Sirius on the shoulder as the two separated.

"With my life, Officer," Sirius replied gallantly as he bowed.

"I love you, Daddy," Barbara whispered, kissing him on the forehead.

"I love you too, baby," he whispered back, and as he started back down the aisle, they could tell he was crying. As soon as he returned to Gwen, they bawled in each other's arms.

Now, it was time for the rabbi to say the vows. Harry was familiar with them, since he'd seen them on TV shows, especially _Love and Lust_ , but there were a lot of sitcoms with weddings in them. One of his favorite things to do with Hermione was watch cheesy soap operas and criticize them mercilessly.

Barbara and Sirius looked so happy and in love when reciting the vows, and Harry was absolutely horrified to find that his own eyes were filling with tears. No! He didn't want to cry! How embarrassing! What was _wrong_ with him? But he couldn't help it. He wiped his eyes and sniffed, and that was when he felt a tap on his shoulder. Ted was smiling at him, holding a tissue. Harry nodded his thanks and wiped his eyes and nose, then stuck it into his pocket.

Once the vows were done, everyone was anticipating the wedding kiss. The final vows sounded a little different, and Harry realized it was because they were having a Jewish wedding. The rabbi spoke to Barbara first.

"Do you, Barbara Catherine Raffelovich, take Sirius Orion Black to be your husband, promising to cherish and protect him, whether in good fortune or in adversity, and to seek together with him a life followed by the faith of Israel?"

"I do," said Barbara.

"Do you, Sirius Orion Black, take Barbara Catherine Raffelovich to be your wife, promising to cherish and protect her, whether in good fortune or in adversity, and to seek together with her a life hallowed by the faith of Israel?"

Sirius didn't say anything for a moment. And then, to _everyone's_ surprise, he bent down, placed his hands on her cheeks, and gave her a big, passionate kiss right on the lips. When the kiss finally ended, her eyes were shining, and she was grinning at him. The rabbi looked shocked.

"Does that answer your question?" said Sirius.

"Yes," said the rabbi, starting to laugh a little. "Yes, it does. I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride—again."

Sirius kissed Barbara once more, and everyone clapped. Remus was rolling his eyes, and Regulus was shaking his head, but Ted was grinning a bit, and it seemed Andromeda and Nymphadora couldn't hide their smiles, either. Hermione had one hand over her mouth in shock, but Harry realized it shouldn't really have come as a surprise. Sirius was never one for following rules, after all.

Once they were done kissing, Barbara reached one of her heels up and stomped on a wineglass covered in cloth that was right underneath her feet. She didn't crush it in the first blow, so she tried again, this time with more force, and this time it shattered.

"MAZEL TOV!" rose up the cheer. Barbara grinned and tossed her bouquet backwards. Harry wasn't surprised when Holly jumped up and caught it; after all, she _was_ a Chaser, and Chasers had to be good at catching things, of course. Holly grinned flirtatiously and waved at Regulus, whose cheeks turned bright red, but he smiled, too.

Then Barbara laughed and ripped off one of her wedding garters, which made half the audience gasp, and threw it out to the groomsmen. Harry was great at catching too, of course, being a Seeker, but there was no way in hell he was going to reach up and catch that wedding garter. The funny thing was, Ted Tonks caught it in the end, and he was already married. Holly caught the bouquet, and she was the most likely to get married next, but Ted caught the garter, and he was the only groomsman who was already married. So was that silly old superstition true or not?

Well, maybe it didn't matter. Sirius grabbed Barbara's arm and they danced back down the aisle, making everyone laugh. Then the bridesmaids started back down the aisle with the groomsmen. Regulus, a perfect gentleman, held his arm out to Holly, who took it gracefully, just like a proper lady, despite her breasts threatening to pop right out of her dress at any moment.

Remus started back down the aisle with Nymphadora; then came Ted with Andromeda. Harry felt a little nervous again, because this was when he actually had to do something, but Hermione smiled at him kindly, and he remembered how much he liked the way she made him feel. That swooping feeling in his stomach, the way he felt shocked by electricity or his skin tingled—it all was still a bit new and different, but it all felt good.

As he took her arm and they walked back down the aisle together, he noticed she was sniffling a little, too. So, just like Ted, he tapped her on the shoulder, and when she looked at him, he handed her a tissue. She smiled at him again and wiped her eyes.

…

They all left the synagogue and headed back to a huge hotel ballroom for the reception. There was a live band, and they were serving the cake and the food from Reggie's Pizza Empire buffet-style, so instead of being seated at a table, you could just go up at any time and grab some food. There was a live band, paid for by Regulus, and everyone watched Barbara and Sirius slow-dance to a song, "Nothing Else Matters" by a band called Metallica.

After that, it was time for the maid-of-honor and best man speeches. Holly went first.

"I haven't known Barbara Raffelovich—well, Barbara Black—very long," she started, "but for the time I have known her, I realize she is a nice, bubbly person and as I am currently courting her brother-in-law, Regulus Black, I see we will probably be spending much more time together. Enjoy the ride, you two."

She sat down, and everyone drank the toast. Sirius let out a sigh of rapture at the first drink he'd had in months, but Harry and the other groomsmen, plus Barbara, would stop him if he wanted another.

"I've known Sirius Black for my whole life, and I can tell you, nobody on this Earth ever thought my brother would get married before I did," said Regulus, which elicited a laugh. "Everyone thought he'd be a bachelor forever, too much of a rebel to get married. But then he met a beautiful, wonderful woman who changed his mind. They've been there for each other, through thick and thin, from an impromptu proposal at my restaurant when he didn't even have a ring, a baby, a new house, and a new life together. Not everyone gets to experience the wonderful feeling of having someone who knows you inside and out, who understands you, who can share absolutely everything with you and be completely honest with you. Sirius and Barbara, however, have found that wonderful love in each other, and I wish them nothing but a lifetime of happiness together."

They drank another toast. Once they were done with that, it was time for the reception.

"Before our band begins," said Barbara, standing up, "my father and I have a little surprise for Sirius in store."

"Hey," said Sirius. "I didn't sign up for any surprises."

Robert stood up too, with a smile. "Come on up to the stage, Sirius."

"Your challenge," said Barbara, as she and Sirius stepped up onto the stage where the band was, "is to sing one of the songs from our wedding playlist, karaoke-style. It can be any song, fast or slow, but you have to sing one."

"Very well," said Sirius. "I'm going to pick 'I Would Do Anything For Love' by Meatloaf—not just because it describes how I feel, but because that way, Barbara, you have to sing too."

"Fine," she laughed. "I'll sing the female part at the end."

Everyone in the audience was laughing, too, as all the lights in the room went out, and the stage lights were turned on. Sirius grabbed a microphone, and the pianist started playing a beautiful melody. Then Sirius sang:

 _And I would do anything for love_

 _I'd run right into hell and back_

That was true, Harry thought. Sirius already had been through hell and back, and he had lived to tell the tale.

 _I would do anything for love_

 _I'd never lie to you and that's a fact_

 _But I'll never forget the way you feel right now_

 _Oh no, no way_

 _And I would do anything for love_

 _Oh, I would do anything for love_

 _I would do anything for love, but I won't do that_

 _No, I won't do that_

Harry wondered what "that" was. But maybe it didn't matter, because the song was beautiful…and then the music got faster. The beat picked up. Some people started dancing.

"What do you think 'that' is?" Ron asked Harry. "You know, the thing he won't do?"

"I don't know," said Harry, "but this song's got a great beat!"

Sirius did a wonderful job. He had a clear, fine, loud voice, which made him a good singer. In that moment, it was more like being at a concert than a wedding. The song was slow in places, where everyone held hands and some sang along if they knew the lyrics, and at the fast parts, they danced. Sirius did everything he was supposed to do—sang passionately with his eyes closed at the slow parts, holding his hand out to the audience, and at the fast parts, tearing his tuxedo jacket off, dancing with the microphone, swinging his magnificent hair around.

But the best part was probably at the end, where Barbara climbed onto the stage and started singing in a surprisingly good mezzo soprano, and as they held hands and faced each other, it was almost like they were taking their vows all over again.

Barbara: _Will you raise me up? Will you help me down? Will you get me right out of this God-forsaken town? Will you make it a little less cold?_

Sirius: _I can do that! Oh, oh, I can do that!_

They stopped holding hands then, and Barbara sang out to the audience, like they were in a musical.

Barbara: _Will you cater to every fantasy that I've got? Will you hose me down with holy water when I get too hot?_ ("HOT!" said the audience.) _Will you take me to places I've never known?_

Sirius: _Now, I can do that! Oh, oh, I can do that!_

Then they held hands again, staring into each other's eyes.

Barbara: _I know the territory I've been around. It'll all turn to dust and we'll all fall down. Sooner or later you'll be screwing around._

Sirius: _I won't do that. No, I won't do that._

Then they sang the last line together: _I would do anything for love, but I won't do that._

Everyone clapped. The lights came back on, and the stage lights turned off.

"Amazing job, Sirius," said Robert. "You truly will be a good son-in-law."

"Hey, as long as we're in a karaoke mood…" Sirius whispered something to one of the band members, and he nodded, a grin spreading across his face. "I invite my wonderful godson, Harry Potter, to sing a duet with me onstage, and I'll bet he can guess which one it is."

"The Lion Sleeps Tonight," said Harry warily. "But Sirius, I don't know if I want to sing onstage, in front of all these people…"

"We did last summer," Sirius reminded him.

That was true. They _had_ sung that song last summer, at a karaoke bar in London. But then, those were people Harry didn't know and would never see again. Conversely, he _knew_ a lot of people in this audience, and how could he sing in front of Hermione? What if he messed up?

"I don't think so," Harry said. "Maybe some other time."

"Very well," said Sirius. "It seems a shame for just the band to sing it, though…I guess I could sing it myself."

"Yeah! Do it!" shouted Ron.

"Help me out here, buddy," Sirius said to the drummer, who gave a few drumbeats, and Sirius started in with the vocalizing at the beginning.

But only a few seconds later, as he tried to hit the higher note, the room was filled with the most awful voice crack in history, much worse than any of Harry's. Sirius looked surprised for a minute, and the whole room was silent. Even the drummer stopped. There was a screech of microphone feedback. But when Sirius finally spoke, he was grinning again.

"Blimey," he said with relish. "It hasn't cracked like that since I was twelve."

With that, everyone burst out laughing, including Sirius, especially Sirius, in fact, and Harry realized that what Sirius and Remus said was true. No matter how old you got, embarrassing things didn't stop happening to you. All that changed was, if you had a lick of sense in your head, you learned to deal with them. And then…

"Give me that microphone, Sirius," said Harry, walking up onstage. "Obviously, you need someone to sing the song with you. I better sing my part while I still can."

"Good man, Harry," said Sirius, his eyes shining, and they sang the song together. It was a little scary at first, singing the solitary vocals, but at least Harry was able to hit the notes easily. It wasn't as scary, either, once Sirius started in with his "a-wee-mo-wep" part, and then they really got into it. The thing about "The Lion Sleeps Tonight" was, when you sang it, you were too busy having fun to be nervous. Everyone cheered when Harry pulled off the tongue roll in the second verse.

"Yeah, bring it home, Padfoot!" Harry shouted happily, as Sirius walked all around the stage, chanting his "a-wee-mo-weps" into the microphone. By now, everyone was singing along and clapping their hands to the beat. Harry was actually sorry when the song was over. Both of them bowed and fist-bumped.

"All right, everyone, that was wonderful," said the band's lead singer. "Now, I'll sing the rest while you dance—starting, of course, with 'Johnny B. Goode,' an oldie but goodie."

With that, a cheer rose up, and a nice guitar riff began. Harry and Ron headed over to the refreshments table and watched the adults dancing.

"Look at Regulus and Holly!" said Harry, pointing.

They really were amazing. Was there _anything_ Regulus Black wasn't good at? Clearly, he and Holly were the best dancers on the floor. Regulus was actually able to flip her upside down, right over his shoulders, while she still landed gracefully on those emerald-green high heels, then she grabbed his hand and they continued dancing. Sirius was great, too, although it was a little harder for Barbara to dance in her condition. If she hadn't been pregnant, he probably would've flipped her, too. It seemed to be the people in Barbara's parents' generation and the pureblood witches and wizards who were the best dancers. But even out on the floor, the girls who had been invited—Luna, Ginny, Daphne, Astoria and even Hermione—were cutting a rug on the dance floor, too.

"How are they _dancing?"_ said Ron. "They don't even know the song."

"I think it's something about girls," said Harry, studying them. "They put on their dancing shoes, get out on the floor, and then the magic happens. They just know what to do."

"Well, _we_ don't dance," said Ron, and Harry agreed.

Most people were dancing. Harry and Ron stayed by the refreshments table, tapping their feet and drumming their fingers on the tables, eating wedding cake and pizza. Harry thought he couldn't eat any more pizza or cake by the time the song was over, plus he downed a lot of soda, too. Ron could eat a lot more than he could, though. The next song the band played was called "Old Time Rock and Roll."

Harry and Ron were watching then, too, taking in all the dancers. But about halfway through the song, during a saxophone solo, they were surprised when Luna Lovegood and Hermione ran up to them. They both looked hot and sweaty from dancing.

"Do you need something, girls?" said Ron warily.

"Yeah," said Hermione. "Aren't you going to come dance?"

"We don't dance," said Harry quickly.

"Well, Ron sure does!" Luna said happily, grabbing Ron's hand and pulling him over to where she and the girls were dancing.

"Harry! Help!" said Ron.

"Well?" Hermione grinned.

"Oh…well, don't expect me to be any good at it," said Harry, and followed Hermione sullenly over to where Ron and the girls were dancing. Luna was holding Ron's hands and swinging him around, as he hung on for dear life. Harry couldn't help but grin at the sight.

For a bit, Harry and Hermione faced each other, and Harry mirrored her movements, just kind of jiggling his shoulders and stepping in rhythm. At least he could do that. But Luna wasn't satisfied.

"Come on, Harry!" she cried, her long blonde hair everywhere. "Dance like nobody's looking!"

Everyone else was. Ron looked terrified, but all the girls were having fun, and the adults were whirling across the room, showing off every dance move they had. This was Sirius's wedding, dammit, and Harry decided he was going to have fun. He grabbed Hermione's hands the way Luna was doing to Ron and swung her around, just making it up as he went along, as he was sure she was doing as well. When the song was over, everyone cheered.

They played some more rock songs, and everyone was having fun. After a few numbers, Harry and Ron were worn out, so Luna and Hermione let them go, and they ate more wedding cake and pizza. So much for not being hungry. But then, the worst happened—a slow song came on. It was "I'll Be There For You" by Bon Jovi. Harry could see Hermione looking in his direction.

"Listen, I've got to go use the john," he said to Ron. "Don't wait up for me."

"I'll come with you," said Ron.

"Really?" Harry gave him a look. "What are you, a girl?"

"No, but I don't want to slow-dance any more than you do," said Ron.

"You know me too well," said Harry, and they headed off to the restroom. It took a few minutes to find it. Neither of them actually needed to use the facilities, so all they really could do was stand in there and talk.

"So this is what it's like to be a girl, huh?" said Ron. "Standing in the bathroom talking?"

"Just until they play a fast song again," said Harry, leaning on the sink, except it was one of those automatic ones, so his sleeve got sprayed by the water. He grabbed some paper towels and tried to wipe it off.

"Hey, maybe we could talk about them, like they talk about us," suggested Ron.

"What's to talk about?" said Harry. "Except I think Luna likes you."

"She does not," said Ron. "She just wanted somebody to dance with, and you're already taken."

"Taken?"

"You know, somebody's boyfriend."

"Well, maybe," said Harry. "I met her last year. She had these things called 'Butterbeer Fizzies' that made your butterbeer carbonated."

"Seems like the last thing she should be having," said Ron.

"Yeah." Harry coughed. There was a silence.

"This bathroom smells really bad," said Ron finally.

"How do girls _do_ this?" Harry moaned. "I'm so bored."

"I'll bet the song is over by now," said Ron, and they left the restroom. When they got back to the ballroom, luckily a fast song was playing, and they went over to the girls to finish it out. Unfortunately, _another_ slow song came on after that, and Harry recognized it. Apparently, Hermione did, too. Ron meandered away, but Harry was trapped.

"Hey, Harry, this is 'Total Eclipse of the Heart,' isn't it?" she asked with a smile.

"Yeah, it is," said Harry nervously, but every impulse he had was screaming for him to run. "Total Eclipse of the Heart" was sort of unofficially Harry and Hermione's song. It was the song that had been playing the night Wormtail had been captured last year, on Halloween. Immediately afterwards, Harry and Hermione had made up after their fight. Ever since, the song had just sort of meant something special to them both. In fact, Harry figured, that was probably why Sirius put this song on his wedding playlist at all, and later, Harry sure was going to give Sirius a piece of his mind. How DARE he!

"So?" said Hermione.

"So what?" said Harry.

"So do you want to dance?" Hermione asked, holding out her hand.

Biting his lip, Harry thought of Christmas last year, when he had kissed Hermione for the first time, and Valentine's Day, when he had sent her a love letter that started their relationship. Could he be daring in love one more time? That was when he saw Sirius dancing with Barbara, waving his hand and mouthing, _Go on!_

Harry gave Sirius a look that said, _I'll get you for this later_ , but all the same, he tried to dance with Hermione. Unfortunately, he didn't know what to hold onto. Her shoulders? Her elbows? Her hands? His knees, because he felt like he was going to throw up? Finally, he grabbed her hands and stood about a foot away from her, his heart beating like a drum. When would this song end?

"Oh, Harry, you're so silly," said Hermione. "Do it like this."

Hermione was known to be bossy, so Harry wasn't entirely surprised when she grabbed his hands and put one of them on her lower back, and held the other, pulling him closer to her. She put her unoccupied hand on his shoulder, around his neck, and they were suddenly incredibly close, like a grilled cheese sandwich. As the song went on, Harry realized they were suddenly the same height again.

"Did I grow taller or something?" he said. "I mean, you used to be taller than I am in heels."

"I took them off," said Hermione mischievously, lifting up the hem of her skirt enough so that Harry could see her bare feet. He grinned at her.

"We're the same height, then," he said.

"Look, you want to be taller? Be taller." Hermione pulled out her wand and discreetly aimed it at Harry's shoes. To his surprise, they had some extra height added, like platform shoes, and Harry was suddenly an inch or so taller than Hermione was. "Better?" she said, her chocolate-brown eyes gazing up into his emerald-green ones.

"Much," said Harry, and they took to dancing again. She leaned her head on his shoulder, and they danced until the song— _their_ song—was over. By the end, Harry thought he might not be so angry with Sirius after all.

Another fast song came on after that, but they all decided to gather at one of the food tables near a chocolate-chip cookie and catch up a little.

"Harry," Barbara was saying, as Sirius popped a chocolate-covered cherry into his mouth. "I heard you were in an accident."

"Yeah, someone told us you had to be hospitalized," Ron added.

"Jeez," said Harry. "I just got knocked out and we only went to the hospital to check whether or not I had a concussion. I didn't."

"Oh." Barbara looked relieved. "I was afraid you were hurt."

"You don't look too worried," Harry said jokingly, turning to Hermione.

"I figured you must be all right, otherwise you wouldn't be in the wedding," Hermione said simply. "Gossip tends to overexaggerate things."

"You always were brilliant," Harry told her.

Regulus walked past, then, Holly in tow.

"Hello, Harry," he said. "You cut a fine figure out there."

" _I_ did!" said Harry in shock. "Look at you! Both of you are amazing dancers."

"Lessons pay off," said Holly with a shrug. "It's not like we're some power couple."

"You're a power couple," said Sirius. "Trust me."

"By the way, I was meaning to ask you, Sirius," Harry began. "I heard you mention something called 'The Gator' earlier. What is that, anyway?"

"Well, when a guy gets extremely drunk at a wedding or party," Sirius replied, "the only dance he can do is one where he lies down on the floor and sort of shimmies along to the music. Or at least, he thinks he is. It's called the Gator. Sort of like the Worm, but less functional."

"Are you going to do it?" Harry asked him with a grin.

"Nope," Sirius said confidently, sipping a glass of water. "Dads don't Gator."

Barbara beamed.

"Want to dance again?" Harry asked Hermione, hearing a fast song start. She nodded, and they ran out to the dance floor, all their classmates behind them. It was "Born to Be My Baby" by Bon Jovi, and it was great to dance to. Harry was getting the hang of it, although he figured things would be different if Regulus married. Their wedding would probably be in a chapel, with music by Bach and Beethoven, and the food wouldn't be served buffet-style. There would certainly be no karaoke.

Harry and Sirius were eating together when the last song of the night came on. Harry noticed Remus and Tonks were dancing together again, like they had been for most of the slow songs.

"This is it, folks," said the singer. "It's been a great reception, but here is our last song. 'Let It Be' by the Beatles."

Harry didn't recognize the song at first, but when he heard the singing, something rang a bell.

"Where have I heard this song before?" he said in frustration. "I know I haven't, and yet it seems so familiar."

"You've heard it before," said Sirius with a smile. "This was the song James sang to you every night before you went to sleep. It was one of his favorite songs."

It was a good tempo to rock a baby to, Harry thought, but also maybe a good tempo to rock a girl to. He looked down at his father's cufflinks, now his, and smiled.

"Hold that thought, Sirius," said Harry. "I'm going to have one last dance."

"I will, too," said Sirius, and got up to seek out Barbara.

Harry looked around until he found Hermione eating at the refreshments table.

"Hermione," he said politely, holding out his hand. "May I have this dance?"

"Oh, yes, you may," she said happily, and he took her into his arms.


	29. Master Regulus, Sir

**Woah, I'm sorry this chapter is so late. I've been busy lately with a lot of work, school and other stuff. Also, it was a long chapter. But here it is. Please enjoy and I hope to have Chapter 30 out sooner.**

Sirius and Barbara left that evening for their honeymoon in Huntington Beach, California. They were staying at a great hotel, and they were going to get it at a discount, since Regulus owned a fair amount of stock in the hotel company. Barbara said she wouldn't stay at a hotel unless it had a spa and a shopping center, which this hotel did. Regulus reassured them before they left that they would have the time of their lives.

"It won't be long before I'm not allowed to ride on airplanes anymore," said Barbara, patting her tummy fondly. "Everyone will be afraid I'll have the baby on the plane, and a flight attendant will have to deliver the baby."

Before they left, Sirius and Barbara changed into vacation clothes, then they both gave Harry huge hugs. Harry didn't even feel stupid when he kissed Phoebe goodbye. Sirius did it all the time, so he might as well. If Barbara gave birth in California, he would never get the chance again.

Paolo, Regulus's personal chauffer, drove Sirius and Barbara to the airport. Paolo knew Regulus was a wizard, so he wasn't surprised that none of their luggage was visible. Barbara, like Harry's mother, stuck everything in her enchanted purse, and Sirius had his pockets.

"You know, Regulus," said Harry, "I thought the only way a Muggle could know about the Wizarding world was if you had family ties. Won't the Ministry be on your case about Paolo?"

"Not once they get a look at my Gringotts checkbook, they won't," said Regulus with satisfaction.

Harry rolled his eyes.

"Where are we eating tonight?" he asked. "Your restaurant?"

"As if," said Regulus. "Sometimes I just get sick of pizza. If you don't mind, I'd like to have a quiet dinner at Black Manor for once."

With that, Regulus and Harry Apparated from the reception ballroom to #12 Grimmauld Place, also known as Black Manor. They went upstairs to change out of their tuxedos. That was when Harry made his first mistake.

As soon as he'd gotten up to his room, Harry had taken off the tux and thrown on his oldest jeans and T-shirt and washed the mousse out of his hair. His bow tie had been driving him nuts, and dressing formally wasn't his favorite. He changed out of his ridiculously long black socks and slipped on his favorite fuzzy Gryffindor ones instead. But as soon as he saw Regulus, he knew he had dressed all wrong. Regulus was still wearing slacks, as well as a white button-down and his green-and-silver tie, the one he wore among both wizards and Muggles to show his loyalty to Slytherin House. His black dress socks hadn't been changed. Compared to him, Harry suddenly felt like a rotten piece of pizza at the bottom of a rubbish bin. Luckily, Regulus didn't say anything.

"Hello, Harry," he said kindly. "I've instructed Kreacher to set the plates in the formal dining room tonight. If you'd follow me to the second floor…"

When they had climbed one flight of stairs, Kreacher already had the table set for dinner, complete with his high chair. Whenever Harry entered a room containing Kreacher, it seemed that the old elf immediately took to staring at him. Harry didn't know why, and it creeped him out. Kreacher didn't move from where he was standing, however; he bowed low to Regulus and gestured towards the table.

"Master Regulus, Sir," he said loyally, still not taking his eyes off Harry. "Dinner will be served."

"What's on the menu?" Harry asked.

"Kreacher is serving beef brisket, applesauce and treacle tart, as Master Regulus ordered," Kreacher told them.

"Good," said Harry. "I love beef biscuit."

"Beef _brisket_ ," said Regulus.

"Oh," said Harry.

Kreacher left for the kitchen, but Regulus just kept standing there instead of sitting down. Was he waiting for Kreacher? Harry bit his lip, waiting for Regulus to sit down, and he didn't, just looked the other direction and coughed quietly. It was incredibly awkward until Regulus broke the silence.

"Er, Harry," he said finally, pulling out a chair with his wand. "Please sit down."

"Right." Harry collapsed into the chair, while Regulus seemed to drift down into his in the most dignified of ways. "I was waiting for you to sit down."

"And I was waiting for you to do the same," Regulus told him. "In the pureblood code of etiquette, it states that the host should always be the last one to sit down at dinner. It's his job to make sure all his guests are comfortable."

"I-I am," Harry told him, even though he really wasn't. This was the fanciest of tables that he had ever eaten at. When the Dursleys held "high-falutin" dinners like this, he had always been served a quick, small dinner beforehand, then sent to the cupboard. Sirius and Barbara never really had dinners like this, and of course at Hogwarts there was just one big table for all the Gryffindors. So this was the first time Harry had eaten a really fancy dinner. It was great they were having treacle tart, and Kreacher's specialty was applesauce, but what on Earth was beef brisket?

That wasn't all. The way the table was set up was mystifying as well. There were three forks on the left side of Harry's plate (which had a napkin atop it, shaped like a hat) and a couple of knives and spoons on the other side; there was a tiny little spoon right at the top of the placemat, turned sideways. The china probably cost at least as much as the Dursleys' entire house; it was ceramic, painted green, with silver lace designs on it. The placemats were made of the finest green silk.

"You like it?" said Regulus, noticing Harry staring. "It was my great-grandfather's wedding gift—part of the dowry. The china is goblin-wrought, of course, and the placemats were hand-woven by his wife's family house-elves."

How did Regulus expect anyone to eat off china like this? Or do _anything_ with it? Was this how purebloods normally ate? Harry noticed how each piece of china was engraved with the Black family crest.

"They must have had a long engagement," Harry commented. "It looks like these took forever to make."

"Quite," said Regulus with a little laugh. "They were engaged from birth. Unarranged marriages were unheard of back then. Only very recently, as recently as my generation, did the practice of arranged marriage start to go out of style in pureblood circles."

"What if you didn't like the person you had to marry?" Harry asked.

"Then you pretended you did," Regulus said simply. "But everyone wanted to marry their children into the House of Black."

Kreacher walked into the room, then, with just one wineglass. He poured red wine into Regulus's glass, then turned to Harry again.

"And what would Harry Potter like to drink?" he croaked.

"U-Um…just water, please," said Harry nervously. This was so nerve-racking! Harry had only been to a fancy restaurant once—last summer, when he, Sirius and Remus met Barbara's parents for the first time, and everyone had been so concerned about the "meet-the-parents" routine that table etiquette was the last thing on anyone's mind. Harry highly doubted Barbara knew anything about table etiquette, anyway. All Harry knew was that you didn't chew with your mouth open and that you didn't put your elbows on the table. Harry rested his forearms on the table instead, like Regulus did. He decided to mirror Regulus's every movement from now on.

"How are things with you, Harry?" Regulus asked as Kreacher went downstairs for the water.

"Fine, just fine," said Harry.

Several more seconds passed; Harry tapped on his plate with a fork until he saw Regulus looking at him.

"Sorry," he said, but Regulus just smiled. Harry wanted to holler for Kreacher to hurry up with the applesauce, for crying out loud. He figured the applesauce was the appetizer, with beef brisket being the main course, and treacle tart was the dessert. To Harry's relief, Kreacher soon popped in with Harry's water and the applesauce. After Regulus and Harry were served, he climbed into his high chair and began to eat with the rest of them.

"This applesauce is exquisite, Kreacher," said Regulus, and Kreacher lit up like a candle. But Harry couldn't taste it, because he didn't know which spoon he was supposed to use. Back home, you could just get a spoon out of the drawer, but why were there so many of them? Was Harry supposed to use the spoon lying crosswise at the top of his placemat? Was that the appetizer spoon? How could you tell? Harry was starting to sweat when Regulus said, "Problems, Harry?"

"What?" said Harry, looking down at his plate.

"You aren't really eating anything," Regulus pointed out. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah," Harry told him. "It's just…I'm really new to this, that's all. Do I use the little spoon at the top or what?"

"No, that's the dessert spoon," Regulus explained. "Just use the one closest to your plate for the first course, the next closest one for the second course, and so on. You understand the difference between a soup spoon, a teaspoon, a tablespoon and a desert spoon, right? And the difference between an appetizer fork, a salad fork and a dinner fork? Dinner and side plates? Salad bowls, soup bowls, and pasta bowls?"

"Yeah, like I understand nuclear physics."

"Hmm…" Regulus frowned. "I see you've learned nothing about proper table manners from eating with my brother. I could enroll you in a standard etiquette class if you want. I'm still surprised they don't teach these things in the No-Maj schools."

"I-I don't know," said Harry. "I'm probably not going to need them. How many fancy dinner parties am I going to be invited to, anyway?"

It was a rhetorical question, but Regulus didn't see it that way.

"Quite a few, I expect, and you'll be hosting, too," Regulus told him. "After all, you're going to be a Head of House one day."

"What?" said Harry, confused. "You mean…like Professor McGonagall or something? Gryffindor Head of House?"

"No," said Regulus. "Head of the House of Potter. Technically, Lord Potter."

" _Lord_ Potter? Like Lord Voldemort?"

"No, not like that," said Regulus, twitching a little at the mention of Voldemort's name; out of politeness, Harry ignored it. "Lord is the head of the family, and Lady is his wife. My official title is Lord Black, and if I marry Holly, she will be Lady Black." With a bit of a smirk, he added, "Someday, perhaps Hermione Granger will be Lady Potter."

"I don't want anybody calling me Lord Potter," said Harry, trying to hide his embarrassment over that last comment. "It sounds ridiculous."

"Be that as it may," Regulus told him, "the fact remains that you are the last living Potter male—in fact, the last living Potter. If you were to concede the title, normally it would go to your uncle Vernon, but obviously, a No-Maj can't inherit the title. Neither can a woman or a dead or disowned family member. It's an ancient magic, so the Head of House position naturally goes to whoever is next in line for it."

"So who _could_ I concede it to?" Harry asked. He wasn't really interested in the position.

"Hard to say," Regulus said, and he was grinning again. "Every man in Lady Potter's family will be a No-Maj, too, won't he?"

"I mean it," said Harry, embarrassed again.

"At one point, a Black family member did marry a member of the Potter family," Regulus said thoughtfully. "Dorea Potter…Perhaps it would be possible to concede the title to me or Sirius. But why would you want to concede it?"

"Well, is it just that, a title? Just fancy words? Or do I have actual responsibilities?"

"Not as many as you would have in the old days," said Regulus with a shrug. "Mostly it's a title, but if there are any major decisions to be made concerning the family, for example, you're responsible for them. Like how I reinstated everyone who got disowned. Or the birth of an heir. Nowadays, girl babies get these ceremonies, too, but it used to be that when a boy was born, everyone realized that someday all the responsibilities of being the Head of House would be on that little boy's shoulders, so he'd better get a proper welcome."

"I don't think that's very fair," said Harry, thinking that Phoebe should get the best welcome of all. Everyone had been waiting so long for her, after all, and Harry loved her already. His plan was to be for Phoebe everything Dudley wasn't for him, and since he was so much older, he could teach her a lot, too. Kind of like how Sirius wanted to be everything the Dursleys weren't, Harry realized.

"Well, not really, it isn't," said Regulus. "But you see, a woman is the one who's going to marry out of a family and into another. If you look at the Malfoys as an example—Narcissa isn't Lord Black, but she is Lady Malfoy. And you may not like the House of Malfoy, but it was considered an impressive dynasty to marry into." Regulus lowered his voice. "Their marriage was arranged, so I'm not sure how much Narcissa really loves Lucius or if she's just being submissive to him for the sake of Draco, but on the outside, they only show a positive image."

At those words, Harry remembered something Sirius had told him once: _You'll find that what happens behind closed doors is often very different than the image you present to the public_.

"Kreacher thinks Harry Potter will be a good Lord Potter," Kreacher blurted suddenly.

"Thank you, Kreacher," said Regulus. "But anyway, all this reminds me…When we ran into you, Barbara and Sirius that night at the restaurant—"

"You mean Mr. and Mrs. Black," Harry said shrewdly, but that seemed to set something off in Kreacher.

"No!" he howled, and promptly burst into tears. "No, no, no! Kreacher will not have the traitor and the Mudblood for his new Master and Mistress! Kreacher wants them to stay away! Oh, poor Kreacher, what would Mistress do, how she would punish him, Kreacher did not want the Mudblood for his Mistress but he could not stop it, oh how Mistress would cry…"

And suddenly, Kreacher grabbed the plate in front of him and banged himself in the face with it so that it shattered, then attempted to stab himself with the pieces. Harry stared. And then—

"Kreacher, STOP!" Regulus commanded.

Eyes streaming with tears, Kreacher let all the pieces of the wedding china shower down on the high-chair tray.

"Listen to me, Kreacher," Regulus began, placing one hand on the shaking elf's shoulder. "I know you miss Mom. I do, too."

Regulus pulled out a hanky and handed it to Kreacher, who wiped his eyes and blew his nose. After Kreacher was done, Regulus didn't ask for it back. Instead, he just kept speaking to Kreacher as Harry watched them, unaware that his mouth was hanging open.

"You and I both know Mom wouldn't approve of who Sirius married," Regulus continued. "But she wouldn't blame you for it. Sirius lives in another house, all the way in Hogsmeade, and you did nothing to bring them together."

"Kreacher d-did n-nothing t-t-to tear them apart," the elf sobbed. His hand reached dangerously for one of the sharp shards of ceramic, but Regulus pulled it away.

"Well, it's not nice to tear up people's marriages, Kreacher," said Regulus reasonably. "And anyway, Sirius is going to do what he wants. Mom knows that. Think of what a good house-elf you've been to her all these years, Kreacher. It was just the two of you in this big house, wasn't it? And you always did what she told you, right?"

"Yes…" said Kreacher. He had stopped crying, but his voice was still wavering. "Mistress asks Kreacher if you died. H-He have to say y-y-yes. She was h-happy when she f-f-found the t-truth…"

"Exactly. Thanks to you, I'm _not_ dead," Regulus reminded him. "Who knows? Maybe someday I will have a son with Lady Black, and you can be the first to show him to her, and she'll tell you all about how thanks to you, our family name was able to continue. How would you like that?"

"Kreacher would like that," said Kreacher. "Mistress will be pleased."

"Yes, she will," said Regulus. "Please fix this plate."

Kreacher touched his hand to one of the shards of ceramic, and they flew back together into a plate. Now Harry wondered how often this wedding china had been broken over the years. Kreacher had been calmed, and the plate was fixed. Regulus's face took on a more serious expression.

"Now, I want you to listen again," he was saying in a calm but stern voice. "Barbara is a part of our family now, and Sirius is no longer disowned. You will take orders from them as you do from me. You will respect them as you do me. You will not say the word 'Mudblood' again. When Phoebe Black II is born, you will obey and respect her as your Mistress as well. Do you understand?"

"K-Kreacher understands," the elf whimpered.

"You might not ever change your thoughts about this," Regulus continued. "But I have, and Sirius and Barbara mean a lot to me. I'm sure that will be reason enough for you to be civil to them."

"Kreacher is sorry, Master Regulus, Sir," Kreacher said in a gravelly voice.

"Apology accepted," Regulus told him, smiling and giving his head a pat. "I'm glad we had this little talk. Tomorrow before I go to work, we'll talk to Mom together, too."

"Yes, Master Regulus, Sir."

"Now, please get that beef brisket before it burns, and since one glass of wine is enough for me, I'll have some water this time," ordered Regulus. "Harry, would you like a refill as well?"

"Sure," said Harry. "In fact, why don't you bring a pitcher out?"

Kreacher glanced at Regulus, who nodded, then the old house-elf disappeared downstairs again.

"That was really something, Regulus," said Harry. "You calmed him down, and even though he got a little bit of a lecture, he knows you're still friends."

"Yes, well, I think he's glad to have me back, but he misses my mother so much," said Regulus. "All these years, living alone, he's been taking orders from Mom's portrait, and I think he sometimes thinks she's still alive. Maybe. I try not to let him talk to the portrait too much, because it will only get him more confused, but sometimes it's all that will calm him down. He's a little touched in the head, bless him…"

"So you do think he's gone off the deep end, then?"

"Probably, but I try to do what I can," Regulus said sadly. "I do know it helps to talk. When I tell him I miss her, it seems to make him understand that it's okay for him to miss her, too. Every so often I go to his den and fix it up all nice for him, and we talk, and he might cry, but I always make it quite clear that I'm not going to leave again, and that it's okay to cry, okay to feel sad. There are a lot of humans who don't even understand that, much less elves. I tell him he should do what he needs to do to feel better as long as he isn't hurting himself or anyone else. Sometimes all you need to do for someone, Harry, is be a set of ears to listen, a shoulder to cry on. Kreacher's probably lost most of his sanity by now, and personally I think he's too far gone to save. But that doesn't mean he has to live out the remainder of his life in misery. It's the least I can do to try and help him heal from his losses; to keep him feeling safe and comfortable."

"It's a good thing he didn't say that stuff about Barbara in front of Sirius, though, isn't it?" said Harry. "Sirius would have exploded at him."

"And that's something _Sirius_ needs to work on," said Regulus mildly.

It wasn't long before Kreacher arrived with the beef brisket. He carved it and served it to everyone.

"Enjoy, Harry Potter and Master Regulus, Sir," he said, and they did. Harry decided he really did love beef brisket. During the middle of Harry's second helping, Regulus put his silverware down neatly and stood up. Harry noticed that he pushed in his chair.

"I'm going to use the washroom," he said. "Do excuse me for a moment."

"You're excused," said Harry.

The nearest washroom turned out to be right next to the formal dining room, and since the walls in #12 Grimmauld Place were apparently paper-thin, Harry could hear everything that was going on in there. Of course, he'd spent ten months in a dorm last year, so overhearing people doing their business didn't even faze him. It was the sound of Regulus's beeper, followed by a frustrated sigh, that surprised him a little. That was one of the disadvantages of being the Boss Man, Harry thought; you weren't even safe from business calls in the bathroom.

"This is Reggie Black," Regulus answered, as professional-sounding as ever, and Harry wondered if the caller could hear the sound of pee splashing into the toilet in the background. "Yes, yes, Sergio, what is it this time?...Wait, _what?!_...Mother of Mercy! I'll be right there."

Regulus burst out of the washroom, beeper in hand, fly wide open.

"If you're not going to wash your hands, Reggie, you could at least put the sausage and meatballs away," said Harry with a smirk.

"It's not funny," Regulus panted, although he did zip up his pants. "Store #8 is on fire, and they don't know what caused it."

Harry gasped. "Didn't they call the Fire Department?"

"Yeah, but I'm hoping to get there instantly and use _Agua Eructus_ ," Regulus said back, and promptly Disapparated.

"Master Regulus's restaurant is on fire?" said Kreacher worriedly.

"I'm sure he'll be fine," Harry told him. "Regular fire can't hurt a witch or wizard."

"Or at least not one as fine as Master Regulus," Kreacher added, but he just kept staring at Harry.

"Why d'you keep doing that?" Harry asked finally.

"Doing what, Harry Potter?"

"Staring!"

"Kreacher is not staring."

"You are too staring, so stop it!"

This was such a dumb argument. Kreacher continued to deny staring, but Harry figured it was just another Boy-Who-Lived thing. Maybe, as Sirius said once, it was all part of celebrity. Instead, he just waited for Regulus to get back. And he did, but not before Kreacher had already served the treacle tart. Harry made sure to eat with his dessert spoon.

They were just finishing up when Regulus Apparated back into the house.

"I should have known!" he was saying to himself. _"I should have known!"_

"Should have known what?" said Harry.

"What started the fire!" Regulus threw up his arms in exasperation. "Or rather, _who_ started the fire…"

"Really? Who was it? An arsonist?"

"Harry, remember who works at Store #8," said Regulus. "If an accident happens there, he's most likely going to be the culprit."

"You don't mean…" Harry gasped. _"Dylan?!"_

"Got it in one." Regulus sighed and collapsed onto a chair. "And it was an electrical fire, so a fat lot of good _Agua Eructus_ did me. I had to use the No-Maj fire extinguisher. It wasn't the whole restaurant that caught on fire, just the bar, but that's going to be a pain to replace."

"Not that I'd put it past him, but how on Earth did Dylan start an electrical fire?"

"There was this old socket down by the bar that was old and faulty, and everyone knew we weren't supposed to use it," Regulus explained as he tried to get his bearings. "We told Dylan, too, but he didn't listen, of course. What happened was that he accidentally knocked over a bunch of beer mugs and they all shattered, so he wanted to vacuum the pieces, and he plugged the vacuum into the faulty outlet. So not only did I lose the bar, but an entire set of beer mugs as well."

"Couldn't you fix them with magic?" Harry asked, remembering what Kreacher had done to his plate.

"No, because they burned in the fire." Regulus sighed again and leaned back in the chair. "At least nobody was hurt."

"Did you fire Dylan, though?" said Harry. "I mean, I know he's going to be a father and all, but he managed to start a fire."

"I told him he could work until the end of the month, but that's it," said Regulus. "I did give him a severance package, quite generous considering the circumstances. It contained enough money to allow Ashley to take a six-month maternity leave, assuming they spend it wisely, of course, but only if they both pass the Teenage Parenting class I signed them up for. Then I told Dylan I thought maybe I could get Ashley a job, when she comes back to work."

" _Ashley?_ But isn't she a huge bitch?"

"I figured if she was clever enough to get herself a full-time nanny for free, she'd be just right to work in Advertising." Regulus grinned.

"And if she ever complains?" Harry said warily.

"Well, I've got the power to fire her, too," Regulus replied with a shrug.

…

Harry's life had a lot of eventful days in it so far, to say the least, and Sirius's wedding day was definitely one of them, so he was exhausted when he finally hit the hay. Unfortunately, he dreamed about Barbara going into labor on an airplane, and it was up to Mrs. Willis and Jennifer to deliver the baby. Jennifer just stood by with a sneer on her face while Mrs. Willis had her head in between Barbara's knees, screaming at the top of her lungs, "THERE'S GOING TO BE ANOTHER LADY PRESENT SOON!"

When he looked at the old-fashioned clock on the wall of the guest room he was staying in, Harry saw that it was about seven in the morning…which meant it would probably be late at night in California, but not too late to call. Harry figured Sirius would be out somewhere, so he walked to the payphone down the street (the house had no electricity) and called Sirius's beeper. Regulus had given him one, because they couldn't always count on him to be near a regular phone.

"HELLO?!" Sirius shouted. There was a quite a bit of noise in the background.

"IT'S HARRY!" yelled Harry. "WHAT'S ALL THAT NOISE?"

"WHAT? I CAN'T HEAR YOU!"

" _TAKE THE CALL OUTSIDE THEN!"_

Harry waited while Sirius made his way outside; it was obvious when he had, because the noise died down a lot. There were still the sounds of cars and sirens and other city noises, but no loud people or music.

"Hello, Harry," said Sirius. "Sorry about that. Barbara and I are at a karaoke bar."

"You two aren't drinking anything, are you?" Harry said sharply.

"Only grape juice for me, and Barbara says she'd rather have something sweet like a milkshake than alcohol, anyway," said Sirius. "But anyway, what are you doing up so early? Isn't it, like, the crack of dawn in London right now?"

"That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about," said Harry. "I dreamed about Barbara going into labor, and not for the first time, either. This time they were on an airplane, and Mrs. Willis and Jennifer had to deliver the baby. It was awful!"

"Don't worry," Sirius told him. "I have those kinds of dreams, too—all the time, actually. Barbara's doctor said it's just pregnancy hormones."

"Why would _you_ have any pregnancy hormones?" said Harry. "Why would _I?"_

"Barbara's doctor said it's pretty common in men with pregnant wives," Sirius said simply. "I suppose it's meant to make me a better man, which I'd need to be if I was a father. As for you…I don't think you're having pregnancy hormones. I think you're just letting your imagination run away with you."

"Do witches and wizards believe dreams predict the future?" Harry asked.

"There isn't much evidence of that," Sirius told him. "Seers are the only ones who can predict the future, and they do it by going into trances, not normal sleep. So no, not even the Wizarding community believes dreams are premonitions."

"Dr. Stefansen and I were talking about it, and he said dreams don't predict the future, but they're a reflection of our innermost worries and desires," said Harry. "For example, if you dreamed you were drowning, it could mean you bit off more than you could chew."

"Sure," said Sirius. "So I guess dreaming about Mrs. Willis and Jennifer delivering the baby isn't so weird."

"It wasn't just them, though," said Harry. "Time before last, I dreamed _I_ was the one to who had to deliver the baby. Phoebe's head got stuck and everyone told me I had to dislodge her, and to help me out, Mrs. Willis gave me a book about female anatomy."

"Maybe what you _really_ wanted was a peek inside the book," Sirius said cheekily.

"No, it _doesn't_ mean that," said Harry. At least, he hoped it didn't mean that. "Dr. Stefansen said dreams are a reflection of our innermost worries and desires, so obviously, I'm dreaming all this because I'm worried about what will happen if we aren't prepared for the birth."

"Well, sometimes I think I'll never be prepared for the birth," said Sirius. "But if you think we're bad, you should hear about Barbara's dreams. She said she usually dreams she's doing nature photography, but sometimes she dreams about scary things like leaving Phoebe behind on a train or something. Anyway…what's going on with you? Regulus treating you all right?"

"Well, something crazy happened. Store #8 caught on fire, and Regulus had to go put it out."

"Oh my God! Did everyone get out okay?"

"Yeah," Harry said. "It wasn't the whole store, just behind the bar. That idiot teenager Dylan started it by plugging a vacuum into a faulty outlet. Since it was an electrical fire, Regulus couldn't put it out with his wand, and he had to use the Muggle fire extinguisher."

"That would've been something to see," said Sirius.

"I had to be alone with Kreacher," Harry continued. "You know, whenever I'm in the room with him, he always keeps staring at me. It's so weird. And last night he threw a fit about how he didn't want Barbara as his new Mistress. So he smashed a plate in his face."

"Well, you can believe I would have punished him," said Sirius harshly.

"Regulus ordered him not to say such a thing again," Harry replied. "But he also said you need to be nicer to Kreacher, because he's hurting. Apparently he really misses your mother."

"Trust me, there is _nothing_ to miss."

Harry sighed. "Well, anyway, Regulus wants me to take a standard etiquette class."

"Why?" asked Sirius.

"He says I'm going to be Head of the House of Potter, so I have to learn that stuff," Harry said.

"There won't be so many decisions you'll have to make, and you can appoint someone else to make them for you until you're seventeen," said Sirius. "You see, being Lord Black used to be a big responsibility, because the Black family was huge with a lot of relations and events and things going on, so there always needed to be someone in charge. The last official Lord Black was my grandfather, Arcturus. Once Grandpa Arcturus died, it skipped from Uncle Cygnus to me to Rodolphus to Lucius to me again and finally I gave it to Regulus. But as much as I hate to say it, there isn't much going on in the Potter family these days, as it's down to you alone. Once your family grows, you can grow into those responsibilities, too. Once you turn seventeen, there will be certain power you'll have that nobody else will, but that's about it."

"Oh, okay," said Harry, relieved.

"Listen, I'll let you go now, since Barbara is probably wondering where I am," said Sirius. "I'll see you when we get back on Sunday."

"Got it. Bye!" Harry hung up.

…

Regulus and Kreacher talked to Walburga's portrait that morning, like Regulus had promised. But after that, he left for work. He said he would be at Store #8 for the majority of his workdays for quite some time, since he had to pick up the pieces from Dylan's mess. Once the month was over, though, Dylan would have left, and Harry thought Regulus was relieved.

There wasn't much to do during the day, so Harry decided to look through the Black family library. One of the things he found was a copy of a book called _Secrets of the Darkest Art_. Harry wasn't interested in the Dark Arts, but looking through the table of contents, he saw that there was a chapter on Horcruxes. Earlier this summer, after Sirius had a heart attack, he heard Regulus saying that Voldemort created them, so Harry wanted to see what the book said—namely, if it said how to destroy them.

 _All known methods of Horcrux destruction require the "receptacle" to be damaged beyond repair (which, in the case of living receptacles, means that they must be killed). For example, methods are Fiendfyre, which requires extreme skill to control, the Killing Curse, and the touch of sacrificial love (on pseudo-Horcruxes). Basilisk venom is (also) a destructive enough substance capable of destroying Horcuxes_.

That passage was pretty much meaningless to Harry, but that was all it said. He didn't know what Fiendyre was, he didn't know what pseudo-Horcruxes were, he didn't know what a basilisk was, and he didn't know what the Killing Curse was. Well, he could guess what it _did_ , of course, that was pretty self-explanatory, but he didn't know the incantation, and he wasn't sure he wanted to know. And as for living Horcruxes, did they have to actually be killed? What if they died naturally? It didn't make sense for a piece of soul to be inside something dead, but even if a living Horcrux wasn't killed, it would eventually die anyway. Harry finally concluded that putting a Horcrux inside a living being, whether human or animal, was a dumb idea, and Voldemort probably wouldn't put a Horcrux in a living creature.

Harry put the book back and was looking for something a little less dark when he heard a loud, clanging noise which scared him out of his wits. Then all the portraits started screaming in the foyer, and he realized it was the doorbell. The library was on the third floor, so he ran all the way down two flights of stairs and into the hallway. He opened the door, and Holly was standing there.

"WHAT'S ALL THIS NOISE?!" Holly yelled, her hands over her ears.

"PORTRAITS!" Harry shouted back.

Holly and Harry didn't make much of a force to be reckoned with, but somehow they managed to quiet the hallway down eventually, closing the curtains over Walburga's portrait. When they did, Holly seemed nervous, but she made sure to state her purpose.

"Is Reg here?" she asked, looking around.

"No, sorry," said Harry. "Is there a message?"

"Well…not exactly," Holly told him. "Actually, maybe it's better that he's not here. I'm wondering if I could talk to you."

" _Me?"_

"Yeah. I was wondering if, well, if Regulus told you something he didn't tell me."

Harry was confused, but he led Holly over into the drawing room, where they sat on the new, amazing couch Regulus just bought. Unlike Sirius, Regulus was clearly not a cheapskate, and #12 Grimmauld Place was definitely looking better.

"Okay, then," said Harry. "What's this all about, Holly?"

"Well…" Holly looked incredibly uncomfortable, but she kept talking. "I-I…I'm just not… _feeling_ it from him, that's all."

"Y-You mean…you mean you're _falling out of love?"_ said Harry in shock. Oh no! Holly wasn't asking him to break up with Regulus for her, was he?!

"No, no!" Holly waved her hands. "Quite the opposite, actually! He's so polite, and we always have interesting conversations. But I'm not…I'm not feeling the _physical_ part, if you know what I mean."

"That's…that's pretty personal, Holly," said Harry, but she just barreled on.

"It's not as though he isn't interested," she said, rolling her eyes. "Not if you judge by his boner against my leg when we slow-danced at the wedding. But after that, he didn't come on to me at all! He didn't ask me to stay the night, he didn't make any moves on me, he didn't even want to make out! What am I doing _wrong?_ Does my breath stink or something?"

"Oh…" Harry suddenly got it. "Oh. Oh! _You're_ not doing anything wrong, Holly! He's just one of those people who believes…who believes a man and woman shouldn't spend the night together until they're at least engaged. He's a…you know…"

Holly gasped. "Oh my God! He's a _virgin?"_

"Yep," said Harry. "But anyway, isn't that good? I thought you didn't want to date guys who were, uh…physical."

"I don't want to go out with guys who think I'm a sex object," Holly clarified. "But I still have _needs_ , you know, Harry."

"Again, that's pretty personal," Harry told her. "What do you want _me_ to do?"

"Nothing." Holly sighed. "I just wanted to know why we have the emotional part of our relationship, but not the physical part. You answered my question. It's a moral thing, apparently."

"Maybe soon he'll propose to you just so you _can_ stay the night," Harry suggested.

"Would it be wrong of me to ask him, anyway?" Holly asked. "I mean, it would be disrupting his values, but what if I told him that since we really love each other, it would be okay to do it? There's a big difference between making love and just having raw animal sex."

"I wouldn't know," said Harry.

"Yeah…" Holly sighed again. "Well, thanks anyway, Harry. I'll talk to him. Do you know when he gets home from work?"

"Probably about six, so he can eat dinner with me and Kreacher."

Holly thanked Harry again, gave him a sad smile, grabbed her purse, and left the house.


	30. Pureblood Drivel and Other Stuff

That very evening, Regulus got home late from work. In fact, he missed dinner. When he came home around eight, Harry was sipping hot chocolate in the drawing room. Harry thought at first it had been a hard day, because Regulus's tie was loose, his hair was tousled and his shirt was only tucked in halfway. But then he saw how…how _happy_ Regulus looked. Kreacher looked happy to see his Master happy, and he raced out of his den to hug Regulus around the knees. Regulus hugged Kreacher extra hard, then hugged Harry.

"What _happened?"_ Harry asked. "Was there another accident?"

"No, no, I just think I may have found a store manager for Store #9," Regulus said, apparently unable to stop grinning. "I'm sorry about missing dinner."

"You found a new store manager?" said Harry in shock, waving the apology away. That was one of the harder jobs for Regulus to do!

"Yes, that's why I stayed late." Regulus shrugged. "I had to do a job interview, you know."

"Well, I'm…I'm really happy for you, I guess," said Harry, who had never seen someone so overjoyed with finding a new store manager, but then, he had no idea what it was like to be a small business owner like Regulus, and Regulus _had_ been under a lot of stress lately.

"I'm happy for me, too," said Regulus, slamming his briefcase on the coffee table. "I think our new store manager will really help with PR…you know, advertising and stuff like that…it's going to be great! The job interview was _amazing!"_

"Okay," said Harry. "Just relax, though."

Regulus flopped back onto the new couch next to Harry and sighed rapturously.

"There was something else I wanted to tell you, Harry," he said. "When we were talking about the Head of House thing last night, I realized I haven't _properly_ taken on my role as the Head of the House of Black."

"What do you mean?"

"I was hoping to go to Gringotts tomorrow and get the Head of House ring," Regulus explained. "Maybe we can look to see if my family left me anything else, too."

"I've been in the Black family vault," said Harry. "Vault 711."

"No, that's Sirius's personal vault." Regulus shook his head. "I transferred the entire Black family fortune to Sirius's vault upon my return to England, since—well, not to brag or anything, but I don't exactly need it now. Forty percent of my current salary goes to the Black family vault at Gringotts, forty-five percent goes to the No-Maj Bank of England and fifteen percent goes to the Reggie Black foundation."

"What's that?" Harry asked.

"My charity," said Regulus. "I donate to causes, both wizard and No-Maj. Back in Chicago, I donated to the House-Elf Rights Fund and to Ilvermoney, the North American wizarding school. As for No-Maj causes, it was mostly charities for hospitals to research diseases and to feed and provide medical care to the starving children in Africa. However, I was thinking of using the Reggie Black Foundation recently to improve the conditions of Azkaban."

" _What?"_ Harry stared. "But Azkaban is where we put the trash that society throws away!"

"Yeah, but still…" Regulus sighed. "They might have been terrible people who did terrible things, but at least with the No-Maj community, there are rules about 'cruel and unusual punishment.' If the No-Maj government found out a prison like Azkaban existed, they would shut it down immediately. I was thinking about focusing less on mentally torturing the prisoners and more on rehab, you know?"

Harry remembered what Mr. Glacier had said about Azkaban, how it needed to be investigated. Then there were all the things Sirius said about it…How many other innocent people were in Azkaban? And how many other people were in there for less serious crimes? Maybe some people really could benefit from rehab.

"I see your point," said Harry, who was also impressed by Regulus's generosity. It was clear that the only thing bigger than Regulus Black's paycheck was his heart.

"Yeah," said Regulus. "Anyway, tomorrow we need to go to Gringotts to check out what's in the Black family vault. I don't like the idea of precious family heirlooms just rotting away in there. We also need to preserve the Heir ring, in case Sirius or I ever have a son…"

"Hey, I thought you said you didn't have time for children!"

"Well, _someone_ needs to carry on the family name," said Regulus vaguely. Harry thought he was acting a little strange, so he suggested they both go to bed.

…

That next morning, Regulus, true to his word, drove Harry to the Leaky Cauldron. Regulus did have a personal chauffer, Paolo, but he said he actually liked driving, plus he needed to get used to driving on the left side of the road. He let Harry choose between the Bentley and the Mercedes. Harry chose the Mercedes, and rode shotgun.

"This provides a very smooth ride," said Harry, rubbing the seat leather.

Regulus spent most of the drive to the Leaky Cauldron on a business call. He had a car phone, like Uncle Vernon's company car did. It seemed to be about Store #8, and what they were going to do about the bar. Regulus didn't raise his voice, but the person on the other end certainly did. However, Regulus never ran any red lights, never went faster than the speed limit, never even did a rolling stop at a stop sign. He knew a blinking red light meant the same thing as a stop sign.

"Listen, I'll call you back," Regulus said as they drove up to the Leaky Cauldron. "All right…Bye."

"First they got you while you were taking a piss, now they got you while you were driving," said Harry conversationally as they walked inside. "You can't catch a break, can you?"

"Oh, I wouldn't say that," said Regulus.

They managed to get through the Leaky Cauldron without anybody mobbing Harry, maybe because it wasn't as crowded at that time of day. When they got to Diagon Alley, Regulus wasn't in much of a hurry to move things along. Sirius didn't seem inclined to buy something from every shop, but Regulus would duck into a shop if Harry wanted to. However, Harry wanted to see how much money Regulus had in his vault, and also some of the Black family heirlooms, so he wanted to go straight to Gringotts.

When they got there, the goblins were respectful to Regulus—not necessarily because of his success in the business world or his status (he was wearing emerald-green silk robes today, embroidered with the Black family crest), but because he was respectful to them. Regulus valued all life, it seemed; Kreacher was a good example.

There was a dragon guarding the Black family vault, which was Vault 799, the very last one. Another puff of purple smoke came out the door when they stepped in. Inside the vault was nearly twice as much gold as Sirius had. There were also precious jewels, boxes of keepsakes, spell books, and what looked like Dark artifacts. Harry knew Regulus wouldn't touch those when he was with Harry, but Harry was still shocked at the amount of money.

"This is only forty percent of your salary?!" he said in disbelief.

"Well…yes, I suppose so," said Regulus, blushing a little and looking around. "I never expected this to happen, you know. I didn't make this much when I lived in Chicago; there was so much more competition there. But I've kind of got a monopoly in this area, so…"

Regulus shrugged, looking embarrassed.

"Don't worry," said Harry. "It's not like you keep it all to yourself like a Scrooge or something. You've helped a lot of people with this money—and not just the donations. Think of how many people have jobs thanks to your employing them."

"True," said Regulus. "Hopefully Ashley will do better than Dylan."

Harry went about exploring the heirlooms, but he soon stopped to look at Regulus, who was on his knees, slowly sorting through a box of keepsakes. He didn't seem to realize Harry was watching him; in fact, it seemed he had forgotten Harry was there. Every so often he would pick up a piece of parchment or cloth, or what looked like a childhood toy, or a photograph. As he moved things around in the box, Harry saw Regulus was biting his lip and tears were glimmering in his diamond-blue eyes.

Blinking back his tears, Regulus fished around in the box until he found an envelope with something bulky in it. When he pulled it out, Harry saw that it was a large emerald ring, Slytherin-green, the same color as Regulus's robes, with a shiny silver band. In the envelope there was also a very small piece of parchment. Regulus pulled out and read the note; Harry saw him put his hand over his mouth and swallow, not even bothering to brush away the tears that now streamed down his cheeks. He wasn't outright bawling, but he was definitely crying now, silently but very visibly. It was heartbreaking for Harry to watch Regulus like this. He didn't know what to say or if he should say anything at all. And what did that note say?

Harry waited for Regulus to stand up and put the ring and the piece of parchment in his pocket. Only then did he notice Harry gawking at him.

"It was supposed to go to me," he said shortly.

"Was that…was _that_ the Head of House ring?" Harry asked hesitantly.

"No." Regulus's voice cracked. "Mother's engagement ring."

"But men don't wear engagement rings," said Harry. "Why did she want you to… _Oh_."

"Yeah," said Regulus, taking in a big, shaky breath.

"Regulus…you really do miss your mother, don't you?" said Harry in a small voice. "As much as Kreacher does?"

"More than that, I think," he said, taking the beautiful emerald ring out of his pocket and running his fingers over it. "I sometimes wonder if…" Regulus swallowed again and blinked hard. "I wonder if she died of a broken heart, you know? I-I can't stand that I left her…and never came home to her…even after all those years…"

Why was Regulus so upset? Hadn't Sirius said there was nothing to miss?

"Well, she thought you died," said Harry. "So she probably just locked it away in the family vault."

"Was it a mistake, Harry?" Regulus asked, wiping another tear as he looked down at the ring. "Leaving everyone? I mean, should I just have made Kreacher let me die?"

"No!" said Harry.

"Or should I have come home?!" he continued. It seemed more like he was talking to himself. "But I _couldn't_ come home…If I did, the Dark Lord would've—would've killed every last Black family member there was. I-I didn't know what else to do…"

"Regulus, it's all right," said Harry. "I think you made the right decision. You can do much more for this world alive than you can dead. And this way, you can get the engagement ring, like your mother wanted."

"I-I guess so," Regulus said finally. "It's just so sad."

"Yeah…I'm really sorry, Regulus." Harry looked around, hoping for a distraction, and he soon found one. "Oh! Weren't we here for you to get another ring?"

"That's right," said Regulus, taking another deep breath. Harry could only assume Walburga had treated Regulus a lot nicer than she had Sirius. Maybe she loved Regulus as much as she hated Sirius—and, of course, Harry knew what it was like to live without a mother and miss her every day.

Harry watched as Regulus walked up to a gleaming, Slytherin-green pedestal over in the corner. Regulus slipped the engagement ring back in his pocket and assumed a determined expression; he wiped one last tear from his eyes, straightened his back, held his head high, and, neither smiling nor frowning, approached the pedestal, his eyes never leaving it. Always before, Harry thought walking in slow motion was something people could only do on TV. But here was Regulus, doing it in person, as if this was what he was made to do. He was the picture of grace and elegance; Harry could only gape. The pedestal was carved so that it resembled a two-headed snake, and inside each of the snakes' heads, the mouth was open. Each snake had a cup on its tongue; the one on the left had a silver cup with a green rim, and the one on the right had a green cup with a silver rim. Regulus walked to the one on the right and tapped it with his wand; with a little puff of silver smoke, it opened.

Harry looked, and it was a silver ring, not like the engagement ring, but flat, although it had a smaller version of the Black family crest on it. Regulus's hands were shaking as he slowly, carefully, deliberately took it in his right hand and slipped it onto his left ring finger.

All at once, he was surrounded by a soft green glow that lasted for a few seconds. He breathed in deep and closed his eyes, his hair blowing slightly as if in a light wind. As soon as the green light faded away, he smiled and opened his eyes.

"I hereby accept my position as Lord Regulus Arcturus Black, Head of the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black," Regulus recited, holding up his left hand. " _Tojours Pur_."

" _Toujurs Pur_ ," chorused the snake heads, much to Harry's astonishment. Their eyes glowed red, their necks intertwined, and then they unraveled and became still again. The little cup that once held the Head ring closed up.

"Congratulations, Regulus," Harry choked. "I-I don't have to call you Lord or anything, do I?"

"Of course not." Regulus grinned. "'Your Majesty' will be just fine."

"Regulus!"

"Just joking," he said.

"So…is the other one the Heir ring?" Harry asked, pointing to the snake head on the left.

"Yes," said Regulus. "There's no Heir currently, though."

"Couldn't Phoebe wear it?" Harry asked. "I know she's a girl…but she's still the newest Black family member."

"I'm afraid it doesn't work that way," Regulus said with a sad smile. "It wouldn't reject her, because she has Black blood, but the cup wouldn't open for her, either."

"What do you mean, 'reject' her?"

"There are some serious wards on these snakes," said Regulus. "If someone without Black family blood tries to touch one of these cups, it will bite them, and who knows what horrible sort of curse will come upon them after they get bitten. I didn't set the wards, so I don't know. This pedestal has been around for centuries, so those wards may have been legal when they were applied."

"Yikes," said Harry, backing slowly away from the pedestal.

"Come on." Regulus smiled warmly and put an arm around Harry's shoulders. "Let's go."

They took the carts up to the lobby of Gringotts, and as they left, Harry tried to walk like Regulus. Everything about him was just so…perfect. Harry supposed he learned it in his pureblood upbringing, but it seemed to come so naturally to him.

"You know, Reggie," said Harry, "maybe you really can sign me up for those etiquette classes. I think I could learn a lot from them."

"Very well," said Regulus. "I'll see what I can do."

When they were in the car, things were silent for a little, until Regulus finally sighed and turned to look at Harry sideways.

"Harry," he said, "I've been meaning to ask—have you spoken with Holly recently?"

"Uh…why?"

"Somehow she managed to find out I was planning on saving myself for marriage," Regulus said sternly. "It could only have been either you or Sirius who told her that, and Sirius is all the way in America."

"Okay…maybe I did sort of tell her you were a virgin," Harry admitted. It wasn't exactly his proudest moment, but he felt he had to tell the truth.

"How did _that_ come up in conversation?" Regulus demanded.

"She said you weren't paying enough attention to her needs," said Harry. "You know… _those_ kinds of needs. So I told her it was because you were saving yourself for marriage."

"Harry, are you insane?!" said Regulus, pounding the steering wheel. "Why would you tell her something like that?!"

"Well, what was I supposed to say?" said Harry. "She was grilling me, asking me if her breath stunk! She thought it was _her_ fault."

"Still, I told you that in confidence, and you should have respected it."

"But you're _still_ a virgin," Harry insisted, until something finally slid together in his head. "Unless…unless you weren't…" Harry gasped. "You _weren't_ at work last night, were you?! You were off shagging Holly!"

"Harry, that is none of your business in the slightest!" Regulus snapped back. But the Slytherin business tycoon had turned Gryffindor red, and it gave him away completely. All of a sudden, Harry realized he was in a car with someone who had done what hundreds of boys only dreamed of: making love to Holly Greengrass.

"I don't blame you for doing it with her," Harry said quickly. "Pretty much every boy at school was in love with her."

"Infatuation, maybe, but not love." Regulus's voice was stern. "You don't have a clue what you're talking about, Harry, so why don't you just drop it!"

Harry felt a sudden heat wave of embarrassment wash over him. Maybe Regulus was just too old-fashioned, but something about his tone wasn't just embarrassing, it felt sort of hurtful, too. It reminded him of what he'd always been told when he was younger: _don't ask questions_. He nodded quickly, but he felt tears stinging his eyes.

It seemed like ages before they finally reached Grimmauld Square. As soon as he got into the house, Harry charged upstairs like a stampeding cow and was almost up the second flight of stairs before Regulus stopped him.

"Look, Harry, I didn't mean to yell at you like that," he said, grabbing Harry's arm. "The subject is just a little personal, that's all."

"Maybe it is, and I'm sorry," Harry said back. "But you really embarrassed me, you know?"

" _Embarrassed_ you? How?"

"It's hard for people my age to ask adults the things we want to know," Harry mumbled. "We worry you'll judge us, or that you'll think our questions are stupid. It's so much easier to talk to your friends—but that doesn't do you any good when your friends are just as clueless as you are." He shook his arm out of Regulus's grip. "So everything seems confusing and embarrassing and scary, and when you yell at us like that, we feel like there's nowhere we can go for answers."

Regulus sighed.

"I guess sometimes we adults forget what our teen years were like," he said finally, setting his hand on Harry's shoulder. "I'm sorry. It's really okay to be curious about this kind of thing. You don't have to be embarrassed."

"If you say so," said Harry. "It's just…a lot of boys were in love with her—I mean, _infatuated_ with her—when she was at school last year, and…and, well…we just wondered…what she was like. I guess."

"Well, like I said, that's rather personal to me," said Regulus. "But I'll answer this one time—let's just say Holly is very experienced, which was good, because I wasn't."

"Did you feel…self-conscious at all?" Harry asked, worried.

"At first, yes, I did," Regulus replied. "But not long after, you'll find, you forget yourself, and that's when it starts to feel good. It's as much of an emotional experience as it is a physical one, you know. It's spiritual."

"I've never heard Sirius say _that_."

"Well, of course not, as he acts on his animal impulses," Regulus said with a roll of the eyes. "And speaking of Sirius, will you please, _please_ not tell him about this?"

"Why?" Harry asked. "He won't get angry with you."

"No," said Regulus, "but he'll tease me for the rest of my natural life."

…

Regulus took the rest of the day off to show Harry around London. Harry thought he'd seen all there was to see of Muggle London when he first moved there with Sirius a year ago, but it seemed there were places Sirius had missed—fancier places like museums and art galleries. With Sirius, they just rode the Underground until they felt like getting off and explored, usually doing fun stuff like getting ice cream and singing karaoke. Regulus wanted to show Harry some _culture_ , "all the things my brother's missed," as he put it. Harry wondered how two people could possibly grow up under the same roof (or even be related) and be so different. Yet he liked them both a lot.

Because he had to lead a meeting at 7:30 the next morning, Regulus decided to go to sleep early. Harry was tired from their exploration of Muggle London, so he turned in for the night, too. He slept soundly, and the next morning when he woke up, Regulus had already gone to work.

It was nine in the morning (Harry's watch ran on batteries, not electricity, which meant it still worked in a wizard house), so for all Harry knew, the meeting was already over. Regulus might be in another meeting, or focusing on growing the business, or maybe he was visiting one of the restaurants, watching the employees and talking to management and checking supplies or whatever else he did there. Maybe he was working on plans for the Hogsmeade location, trying to figure out how to market to wizards. Maybe he was doing damage control for Store #8.

It was going to be a long day. Harry knew Regulus didn't want to do it, but he left Harry home alone most of the day. Today was no different. There was no television, of course, and most of the books in the house were on Dark Magic. Harry had brought some of his homework, and he practiced doing magic, since (as Sirius had explained) if the Ministry detected magic coming from a place like Black Manor, they would assume it was either Regulus or Kreacher doing the magic.

Harry practiced _Avamph_ , the spell his father and Sirius had invented, and a few others. He looked through the books in the library, until it started to freak him out a little. He looked through a book called _Nature's Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy_ , and he couldn't find his family in there, but he did find Sirius's family, Holly's family, Ron's family, and of course the Malfoys, plus the surnames of a lot of other Slytherins he knew.

Then, feeling nervous but curious too, he decided to look up the Gaunt family next. Maybe they would shed some light on whether someone from the Gaunt family had really married into the Potter family. The article on them was quite long. Harry scanned the article for the word "Parseltongue" or any mention of Salazar Slytherin. He found both.

 _Up until the twentieth century, every single member of the Gaunt family was pure-blood. They were also the last known descendants of Salazar Slytherin, as well as descendants of the Peverells, famed ancestors in whom they took great pride._

 _As stated above, the Gaunts inherited their ancestor's ability to speak Parseltongue. Like other pure-blood families of the time, they were supreme advocates of blood purity and were often inbred in order to maintain "purity." However, by the twentieth century, mentally unstable members of the family had squandered the family's fortune and cost it much of its prestige among elite pure-blood circles. Despite this, their habit of keeping themselves pure allowed them to become one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight._

Harry scanned all the way to the end of the article, looking for the fate of the family.

 _Upon the death of Morfin Gaunt, heir to the House of Gaunt, the male line of the Gaunt family ended. The female line, along with the Slytherin family, ended with Merope Gaunt, who died single and childless._

And that was where the article ended. Harry checked the publication date of the book—it had been published around 1955. (Perhaps that was why a lot of people his age and his parents' age weren't in it.) But Sirius said Harry's father hadn't been a Parselmouth, and since Sirius lived with Harry's grandparents for several years, surely he would know if they were Parselmouths. Or did they just never speak in Parseltongue in front of James and Sirius?

But Sirius had mentioned Harry's grandparents being elderly when they died. They had to have been born around the very early twentieth century, which meant a Gaunt family member had to have married a Potter no later than the nineteenth century—long before the book was published. So why wasn't that in there? It was one of the many mysteries of Harry's life.

Around noon, Kreacher made Harry lunch. It was applesauce with treacle tart. Wizarding households had to think of more creative ways to preserve their perishable food, the way Muggles did before the invention of the refrigerator. Kreacher told Harry he used the icebox, but he would also sometimes can or salt foods.

By three in the afternoon, Harry thought he would either die of boredom or heatstroke, whichever came first. He was done eating lunch and had stopped reading the book and had all the windows in the house open, wishing he had a fan and a refrigerator and a TV. It was extremely hot, too hot to take a walk outside, too hot to do anything, and there was nothing to distract Harry from it all. Finally, Harry walked outside under the sweltering sun to the payphone down the street to call Sirius's hotel phone. It took a couple calls until someone picked up and Harry did not get the friendly greeting he'd anticipated.

"WHAT?!" Sirius barked.

"It's me, Harry," said Harry quickly.

"Harry?" Sirius grunted.

"Right," Harry told him. "It's Harry. Your godson."

"Yes, I know," Sirius grouched. "Now what do you want?"

"Well, I-I just wanted to say hi."

"Hi?!" said Sirius incredulously. "It's six in the morning over here! Are you nuts?"

"I-I forgot," Harry admitted sheepishly. "I forgot about time zones, I mean."

Sirius sighed. Harry heard him shifting around in bed.

"Well, whatever. I don't want you to feel like you can't call me," he said, then paused. "So what's been going on with you?"

"Nothing," Harry said glumly. "It's boring here. There isn't even any television."

"Reg just leaves you all day there on your own? What does he even _do_ for all those hours?"

"Work stuff." Harry shrugged. "Probably boring. But it's got to be less boring than sitting here all day. And of course it's scorching hot."

"It's hot here in California, too," said Sirius. "Super hot. But we went to the beach and the pool and stuff, and our hotel is super nice. Barbara got a pregnancy massage at the spa, and we got to feed the fish in the pond. I got a terrible sunburn, but then I got a facial, which made it go down in nothing flat."

"You got a facial?" Harry laughed. "Probably no other guys did, you know that, right?"

"Yeah," Sirius agreed, "but Barbara told me there are guys who go there to get their back hair waxed, so it could be worse."

"That's disgusting," said Harry.

"Painful, too, I imagine," Sirius added. "Barbara says they drip hot wax on you, then they wait for it to dry and rip it off. That would hurt enough even if it didn't pull out a bunch of hair at once. And she says that when they do her eyebrows, they use tweezers too, plucking hairs out one by one. She says the tweezers hurt more than the waxing. And then they play relaxing music in the background—as if getting painfully waxed is relaxing at _all_."

"That sounds like torture," Harry told Sirius.

"It is," Sirius agreed.

Harry tried to imagine what it would be like to have someone spread hot wax all over his back and rip it off. But then he would have to have a hairy back, which he hoped wouldn't happen. "D'you think I'm going to have a hairy back?"

"No, considering your dad didn't," Sirius told him.

"Oh, good," said Harry, then he sighed. "Listen, Sirius…can I talk to you about something else? As long as you don't tell anybody?"

"Of course, Harry," Sirius replied, his tone becoming more serious indeed. "What is it?"

"It's just…I-I found a book, _Nature's Nobility_ , and I was looking through it, and I couldn't find my dad's family," Harry told him. "And I looked up the Gaunt family, and there was nothing in there about someone in that family marrying a Potter. It said your family is extant, but that the Gaunt family is completely extinct."

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line while Sirius thought it over.

"Well, there are a couple of reasons for that," he said finally. "You see, the Potters were pretty much the first Reformed Pureblood family there ever was. I'm sure you can imagine how the other families felt about that. So they were never added to the Sacred 28—or to that book."

"Is that why they didn't mention the Gaunt family marrying into my dad's family?"

"If our theory is correct, yes," Sirius replied. "If the Potters weren't part of the Sacred 28, there would probably be no mention of them in the book. Besides, it lied about the Gaunts, too. That family is still extant in the female line."

"How?" said Harry. "It says Merope Gaunt died alone with no children."

"That's the story," Sirius said. "But the truth is, she married a Muggle, and then had a baby in 1926. That baby became none other than Lord Voldemort."

"Voldemort?" Harry gasped. "But—but wouldn't the book mention the most feared Dark wizard of all time?"

"It was written in '55, and Voldemort didn't really come to power until the seventies," Sirius reminded him. "I guess at the time he was just another Dark wizard. Besides, his mother, a pureblood witch, had conceived a baby with a Muggle. Do you realize how taboo that was back in the day?"

"I'm guessing a lot," said Harry.

"It would've been more socially acceptable to shag a goat," said Sirius. "Much of the time, if a witch got pregnant by anyone who wasn't a pureblood, she would have the baby and then dump it at an orphanage, or maybe even just drown it, terrible as that is. If she loved the baby and wanted to keep it, she had to work hard to make sure it wasn't confiscated and treated horribly at the hands of a pureblood relative. Usually that meant cutting off ties with the family for good."

"What if it was a wizard and a Muggle woman?" Harry asked. "You know, like you and Barbara?"

"Well, that was a whole different beast, since in Traditional families, it's the man's job to find a woman who can produce a proper heir," Sirius told him. "If his baby's mother ended up being non-pureblood, that would mean the family line was infected forever…unless, of course, he modified her memory, ditched her, and made her raise the baby on her own, which was what happened in 99% of these cases—Voldemort's father left his mother before he was born, too. Many magical kids would grow up thinking they're Muggle-borns from single-mother homes, when in truth they're half-bloods with a wizard father they never knew. It's nauseating, really."

"Yeah," said Harry. "It's just like Barbara's old boyfriend, Jackson, isn't it? He didn't care about his own baby at all. Why did the purebloods shag Muggles if they didn't want babies?"

"Who knows," said Sirius. "Maybe they were drunk or exceptionally horny…or both. Maybe they were doing it to rebel. Maybe it was because they saw Muggles as lower life-forms. And of course, nobody knew anything about how their own bodies worked."

"Sounds like a recipe for disaster." Harry felt as sickened about the whole thing as Sirius did. So he decided to change the subject and tell Sirius about Regulus visiting Vault 799 and becoming Head of the House of Black. Even though he couldn't mention that Regulus wasn't a virgin anymore, they could talk about something more neutral, like the Black family. "Guess what Regulus did yesterday, though?"

"He shagged Holly?"

"Wha—how did you _know?"_ Harry gasped. Had Regulus _told_ him?

"I knew it was just a matter of time," said Sirius with a laugh. "Didn't you see them dancing during the slow songs at the wedding? She was totally coming onto him."

"Regulus seemed like a whole different person after he did it with Holly," said Harry. "He seemed so happy at first, but then he didn't want to tell me anything, and finally he gave me this whole talk about how emotional and spiritual it was. Then he told me you just act on your animal impulses."

Sirius seemed to find that last part hilarious. It took a while for him to calm down.

"Regulus always overthinks things like this," he said finally. "I suppose he thinks he's weak for giving in to her advances."

"Exactly," said Harry. "Listen, Sirius, I know you guessed it, but if you talk to him about it, he'll think I told you, and I wasn't supposed to tell you. He said you'd tease him for it. You won't, will you?"

"Well, I suppose I can't, really, not if he's that serious about it," said Sirius. "I won't bring it up. But if he mentions it again, tell him he's not weak, okay? Tell him he just found the right person, and that he only did it because he knew it was right. Knowing Regulus, he's going to read a lot more into the emotions involved here than he needs to."

Harry promised he would say this if Regulus broached the topic, but that he wouldn't bring it up on his own.

"Listen, Harry," said Sirius after another rather long pause. "I'm up for the day now, so I'm going to go get some coffee and a shower, then we're probably going to go to the beach again or something."

"Got any back hair you need waxed?" said Harry jokingly.

"No," said Sirius, "and that's gross."

"I'll see you on Sunday night, Sirius."

"Good-bye, Harry. I look forward to it."

After he hung up the phone, Harry didn't know if he felt better or worse about his family history. Sirius told him his father believed that you should judge people based on who they are, not what they are. Harry's family had forfeited their Sacred 28 position due to that belief, and that was comforting. But still…the Gaunts sounded crazy. Sirius, Remus and now even Regulus told Harry that blood didn't matter, but did it?

Harry focused on doing spellwork the rest of the day. He already knew _Expelliarmus_ , so he tried doing other defensive spells. Thanks to Sirius's club last year, he knew a lot more about dueling than an average first year.

It was seven in the evening when Regulus came home. Harry knew Regulus usually stayed at work later ( _actual_ work, not booty calls), but he came home during the evenings to have dinner with Harry. He brought home pizza, which Harry was excited about. Harry was afraid he would mention their exchange yesterday, but he didn't.

"How was your day, Harry?" he asked as they sat around the table.

"Fine," Harry lied.

Regulus raised his eyebrows. "You sure?"

"Well, it was pretty hot out," Harry admitted. "And there was nothing to do."

"I'm sorry, Harry," said Regulus. "If only there was some way to have TV in here or an air conditioner. But you know there isn't."

"But it's just so _boring_ here," Harry blurted, then paused. "Sorry."

"No, don't be," said Regulus distractedly. "The last thing I want is for you to have a bad stay here…But what can you do here with Kreacher while I'm at the office or the restaurant all day long?"

"That's it! The restaurant!" exclaimed Harry, almost jumping out of his chair.

"What about it?" said Regulus, looking perplexed.

"D'you think—d'you think I could work there during the day?" Harry asked excitedly. "You could drop me off on your way to the office. Or if you're going to the restaurant, we can go there together!"

"Oh, you don't want to do that, Harry," said Regulus, looking at him sideways. "I mean, I'd pay you, of course, but…you'd have to bus tables or something. I daresay you've had enough of that."

"You're forgetting the Dursleys forced me to do it, and they didn't pay me," Harry reminded him. "This will be different. It'll be my first job."

"Very well," said Regulus finally. "Tomorrow is the store manager's day off at Store #8, so I'm going in as acting store manager. You can come with, and we'll see what we can do."


	31. What Happened At Reggie's

Regulus was in and out of meetings from seven to ten in the morning. Reggie's Pizza Empire opened at eleven, just in time for the lunch rush, even though most pizzerias opened later than that. Regulus said he did it so when all the other pizzerias were closed, the people who craved deep dish for lunch would have somewhere to go. Not that it mattered, of course, because Reggie's Pizza Empire was the only place in Europe where you could get quality deep dish Chicago-style pizza.

Harry slept until ten, when Regulus came home and told him to get ready. Then they drove to Reggie's Pizza Empire, Store #8. Regulus spent the whole ride on his car phone, as usual. It was also raining, but since Harry didn't have a hoodie or anything, his hair got all wet and sopped all over his face, even worse because he'd put mousse in it that morning. When he got in, he could make Regulus wand-dry it (inconspicuously, of course) but it would look a mess—more than it would have if he'd just left it alone.

The two of them got there at half-past ten, when the employees were getting everything ready for the store opening. They got out of the car, Harry's wet hair slopping into his eyes while his glasses fogged up with the rain. Mousse did _not_ bode well with rainwater. When they were under the awning but not inside, Regulus wand-dried Harry's hair, magicked up a brush, and told him to comb his hair in the bathroom before the store opened.

When that was done with, Harry was assigned to be a busboy. He got an apron, and Regulus introduced him to the rest of the staff.

"This is Harry, everyone," he said. "Today he's going to be working as a busboy."

"But isn't he, like, ten or something?" said a teenage waitress. "Shouldn't he be, like, at home? Frolicking without a worry or care?"

Some of the waitstaff leered at him.

"You just wait." Another one grinned, but it was kind of like a Snape grin. "Someday, kid, you'll have responsibilities, and you'll long for the days when the only worry you had was whether you'd miss the morning cartoons."

"Now just wait a minute," said Regulus. "Harry is twelve, not ten. He'll be a real, actual teenager in just one year. And some of you guys need to learn about responsibility, yourselves."

"Where's Dylan?" said Harry.

"Probably late, as usual," said one zit-faced teenage waiter, and Regulus sighed.

"Listen, I'm going to make sure everything's in shape before I unlock the doors," he said. "The chefs will be arriving in about twenty minutes. Harry, will you meet me at the front doors around ten till for training?"

"Sure," Harry told him, and when Regulus left, all the waitstaff and other bussers gathered around him. They were all so tall.

"Listen, you little teacher's pet," the zit-faced one snarled. "You might be in Reggie's pocket, but the rest of us got our jobs on our _own_."

He laughed cruelly and some of the others did, too. So much for the staff being friendly and welcoming.

"And we'd like to keep those jobs," said the female teenager, walking up next to him. "Reggie's here instead of our usual store manager, so we all have to be on our best behavior."

"Guys, Regul—I mean, Reggie is nice," Harry told them, his voice sounding very small. "I don't think you have to worry. He's just here because—"

"We don't care why he's here!" said the zit-faced teenager. "All we know is, he _is_ here, and when the fucking owner of the entire restaurant chain is here, you'd better believe we have to pretend like we care about this shit."

"If you don't care about Reggie's, then why do you work here?" said Harry, trying to ignore the foul language. He knew better than to add something like, _Maybe because you're such a pizza-face yourself_.

"Hah!" the female laughed mirthlessly. "What a baby! You just don't know how things work, do you, little baby?"

"Anyway, my name is Brian, but I'm known amongst the waitstaff as 'Bruiser,'" said the zit-faced one, pointing to his nametag, which read _Bruiser_. "And this is my associate, Marcelle. We're the leaders around here, so what we say goes. Got it?"

"No, what _Reggie_ says goes," Harry said.

"I said," Bruiser growled, his eyes glinting maliciously, " _got it?!"_

"Um—yes," Harry said, in case Bruiser was thinking about tearing him limb from limb. Bruiser was the size of a refrigerator, and compared to him, Harry was pretty much a twig.

That was when the kitchen door came banging open, and things got worse for Harry.

"Oh. My. _GOD!"_ shrieked Dylan, trying to tie his apron around his waist, but he had accidentally tied it backwards. "Is that _you_ , Harry?! Oh my God, are you coming to work with us?!"

"Calm down, pussy," said Marcelle, clouting Dylan on the back of the head. "Do you want to wet yourself for the fourth time this week?"

Everyone laughed. Harry knew just then that Dylan was the waiter who was least able to defend himself, hence bullied by all the staff, and all the staff was probably bullied by Marcelle and Bruiser. Why didn't anyone _do_ anything about it? Why didn't they tell Regulus? Harry knew the answer to that—if they did, they would never see the light of day again. Harry certainly didn't want them to kill _him_ , but was it his responsibility to try to stop the reign of terror?

The thing about Dylan, though, was that he didn't understand he was being picked on.

"Whew! Thanks, guys," he told them, wiping sweat off his forehead. "Yeah, it's really embarrassing to wet your pants in public, isn't it?"

"The _worst_ ," said Marcelle sarcastically, rolling her eyes, and Dylan gave her a huge smile. Maybe Dylan was used to women kicking him around like a soccer ball. Maybe he liked it.

"Okay, anyway…" Harry sighed and tried not to think about Dylan. "The store's opening at eleven, so we should be prepared for all the customers coming in soon, and—"

"HEY!" Bruiser barked. " _I_ give the orders around here, NOT you, shrimp!"

Harry gulped. Where was Regulus? He looked at his watch, and saw that it was 10:50.

"I've got to go meet Reggie for training," he blurted, running out of the kitchen to gales of laughter. Now they would only bully Dylan, but he wouldn't know.

"Hello, Harry," said Regulus pleasantly, and Harry wondered how he could be so oblivious to the situation in the kitchen.

"Hi," said Harry. "So, you wanted to train me?"

"Yeah." Regulus led Harry around the room. "There's not much to really train; you just take the dirty plates and things off the tables after the customers are done eating, and you wipe them down to get them ready for the next group. Put all the dirty dishes on a cart and bring them back to the kitchen for the dishwasher. I might ask you to do some dishwashing, too, depending on what we need more. Just basically I'll let you know what I need you to do, all right?"

"All right," said Harry nervously, hoping he wouldn't have to wash dishes, because then he'd have to go back into the kitchen with the waitstaff.

The first thing Harry did when he got onto the dining area, though, was check out the bar. Not because he wanted a drink (it would be five years before he could do that in the Wizarding world, and six in the Muggle world), but because he wanted to check out the damage. As he'd expected, Dylan had singlehandedly destroyed it. The whole area was charred, and it was marked off with yellow police tape. There was a notice saying that the bar was Out of Order. _I'll bet_ , Harry thought.

Either way, bussing tables wasn't really hard. Harry waited until the customers were done eating, then he cleaned the table (or "turned" it, as the other bussers said). He was also glad that he'd be getting paid for this. Regulus thought it would bring back memories of life at the Dursleys', and that was why he'd been reluctant to let Harry work, but this _didn't_ remind Harry of the Dursleys.

There was generally one busser to every three members of the waitstaff. Harry was glad that he wasn't with Bruiser or Marcelle, but unfortunately, he was bussing for Dylan, as well as two other waiters, one an adult and the other a teenager. Harry would have liked for at least one of them to be female, to make it a little more interesting, but no such luck.

Dylan was trying to teach Harry how to be a busboy, since he said that was how he started out, and Harry couldn't help wondering how on Earth he'd gotten himself promoted. Maybe for the same reason he had a job at all—namely, because Regulus felt sorry for him. Well, no more.

"See, after the customers eat the food, you have to put the plates on this tray," Dylan said, "and then—whoops!"

 _CRASH._ Dylan slipped, holding a big pile of dirty plates. They all shattered as they landed on the floor, sending food and shards of glass flying everywhere.

" _DYLAN!"_ Regulus hollered.

"O-pa!" said Marcelle, a few tables away with a grin of evil amusement on her face.

"Oops…sorry, Boss Man," said Dylan, holding his hand to his head. He was a little cross-eyed.

"Never mind it," Regulus grouched, coming over to help him up. "Are you all right, Dylan?"

"I-I think so," Dylan said, looking confused.

Harry was watching them both, lucky he hadn't been cut because a shard of glass had just barely missed him as it propelled its way into the bar, where it shattered into even smaller pieces. Harry wondered how the _Reparo_ spell worked—if something was completely shattered into tiny little pieces, not just big shards, could it still be fixed?

Even worse, Regulus couldn't repair the plates by magic, because until Store #9 opened, Reggie's Pizza Empire was Muggle-only. Not only that, but Dylan wasn't allowed near anything with a plug for the remainder of his working days, so Regulus had to have someone else vacuum the mess, and wouldn't you know, he picked Bruiser, who kept giving Dylan dirty looks. They flew over Dylan's head entirely.

"I'll get you, bitch," Harry heard him whisper to Dylan, who just giggled. Harry couldn't believe it, but now even he was starting to feel bad for Clueless Dylan (as the waitstaff called him when he was out of earshot).

Harry spent some time in the kitchen as a dishwasher, too. His tenure at the Dursleys gave him more than enough experience. It was just so annoying to be back in the kitchen, though. Bruiser and Marcelle kept whispering about something. It looked like they were having a little argument. Sometimes they would grab Dylan and speak very firmly at him. Once they handed him money and sent him out; Harry figured they were forcing him to buy coffee for them or something. Dylan didn't look scared, though. He just looked glad he could help out, and whatever it was, Harry felt like he didn't want to be involved. Sure, he remembered what it was like to be bullied in school, and he wanted to do something about it. But _what?_ Telling Regulus wouldn't help; Harry would just be that newbie who tattled on the big bad older kids, and they would laugh and laugh.

Reggie's Pizza Empire closed at eleven. Regulus usually stayed until midnight when he was managing one of the restaurants and not in the office, but when Harry was staying with him, he left at seven so they could have dinner with Kreacher at #12 Grimmauld Place. The problem was, who was going to be in charge from seven until eleven? Certainly not Marcelle or Bruiser, since to Regulus, they were the same rank as the other waitstaff. Finally, Regulus decided he would call one of the managers from Store #7, the first store he had opened outside of Chicago, and that person would hold down the fort.

Around half-past five, they were all getting ready for the dinner rush. It was absolutely insanely busy all day. Harry was glad his shift would be over in an hour and a half and he wasn't so sure he would come back again tomorrow. But that was when the doors burst open and two armed men in ski masks burst in.

 _This_ was bad. They weren't skiing, they were robbing. Marcelle and Bruiser rushed to the front.

"Harry, dial the cops, now," Regulus instructed, and made his way up to the entrance, too.

Without another word, Harry went to the phone and pressed the number 9 three times.

"999, what's your emergency?" said the operator.

"The store's being held up!" Harry gasped. "Come quick!"

 _Honestly_ , Harry thought as he ran up to where the two men in ski masks were now attempting to push their way through the crowd. Couldn't anything be normal in his life, ever? In the Wizarding world…no. He'd accepted that. But in the Muggle world, why couldn't he just be another person, another face in the crowd—in this case, another face in a crowd being assaulted by armed men in ski masks?

Dylan came hurtling out of the kitchen, holding a pan of Meat Lover's Deep Dish and two plates of spaghetti, the ingredients flying everywhere.

"Oh. My. GOD!" he squawked to the robbers. " _There_ you are!"

"What?!" Regulus barked.

"Marcelle and Bruiser told me to buy ski masks for those guys," he explained brightly. "They didn't tell me why, though."

Nobody saw it but Harry. Regulus slowly drew his wand and hid it behind his back; in all the confusion, nobody noticed. The next second, the men's ski masks had floated off and Regulus caught them. Then their guns dropped to the floor. _Accio_ and _Expelliarmus_ , Harry thought. If he needed to, Regulus would probably use _Impedimenta_ as well. Harry had learned all these spells last year from Sirius's Defense Against the Dark Arts classes.

"Aha!" Regulus cried, hurriedly shoving his wand back into his pocket. "It's you!"

"You _know_ these people?!" said Harry to Regulus. The police sirens started to become audible.

"Dylan," Regulus said calmly, "what exactly did Bruiser and Marcelle tell you to do?"

Bruiser and Marcelle looked like they were trying to speak, but couldn't. Regulus had probably used _Silencio_ on them, the same spell Sirius used on Peter Pettigrew last year on Halloween.

"Oh, well, they whispered a lot, and then they gave me letters," Dylan said. "They told me to deliver them to these two guys standing down the street wearing sunglasses. Then they gave me some money to buy ski masks for them."

Dylan said this all as if he was describing the process of metamorphosis to an eight-year-old. Regulus slowly turned to Marcelle and Bruiser (Harry saw him snap his fingers, so they could talk again) and he shouted, " _You've been giving information to the Pizza Mafia?!"_

"Is that who those guys are?" said Harry, but everyone ignored him.

"You two are from the Pepe family!" Regulus said furiously, pointing to the new invaders. "And you—" Regulus turned to Marcelle and Bruiser. "You've been conspiring against me! What exactly did you tell them?"

"They were letting us know where the secret Deep-Dish Pizza formula was hidden," one of the Pizza Mafia invaders grunted.

" _Why?"_ Regulus demanded.

"Because we're sick and tired of you ordering us around!" Bruiser burst out. "The Pepe family said if we gave them the knowledge of how to destroy you financially, they would make it worth our while!"

"Well, it's not going down like that!" Regulus shouted. "I can't believe this! Not only are you two fired, but the police are going to book you!"

Harry figured Barbara's father wouldn't be there, as he wasn't a regular beat cop; he was actually one of the firearms officers, the ones in Britain who did carry guns in their belts. His unit mainly got called if a criminal was armed (assuming the _unarmed_ cops weren't shot dead already by the time he got there). Either way, Regulus had said that only the business owners knew about the underground Pizza Mafia, but obviously someone had clued in Marcelle and Bruiser, and now _everyone_ knew.

The police rushed in and they did not hesitate to handcuff Papa Pepe's goons. Regulus also directed them to handcuff Marcelle and Bruiser. Harry was glad that the bullies got what was coming to them, and that the idiots from the Pepe family didn't get what they wanted. Of course, Regulus's secret formula was probably guarded by magical wards, so they wouldn't have been able to get in even if someone had escorted them there, but nobody else knew that.

All four of them were taken away. The crowd was gawking.

"Dylan," said Regulus.

"Y-Yes, Boss Man?" Dylan was shaking.

"I realize you were careless, but technically, you did no harm, and either way, any harm done would be unintentional," Regulus said calmly. "Therefore, I will not press charges. However, please try not to be such an idiot in the future."

Harry found this laughable. Maybe Regulus was going to try to convince Draco Malfoy to protest for the rights of Muggle-borns next.

"Um, okay," Dylan said nervously.

Even now, Harry was still beside the phone, and he was startled when it rang again. Regulus was by the counter in an instant, it seemed, and he picked up the phone.

"Reggie's Pizza Empire, this is Reggie Black speaking, how may I direct your call?" he asked, sounding like Barbara back when she had been a secretary.

There was mumbling on the other end, then what sounded like shrieking, and Regulus's eyes grew wide.

"I'll get him," he said, and dashed over to Dylan.

"What is it, Boss Man?" said Dylan, who was looking scared out of his wits.

"It's your girlfriend, Ashley," Regulus said hurriedly. "She's—she's gone into labor. She wants you to take off work to meet her in the hospital."

"Oh. My. GOD!" Dylan turned as white as a shroud and his legs promptly collapsed out from underneath him. Regulus caught him somehow, and he started whimpering and whining about how he didn't know what he would do, and Regulus dashed over to Harry.

"Harry," Regulus said calmly but pointedly. "I'm going to have to drive Dylan to the hospital. We're now three waiters short, we're going on the dinner rush, and it's already a madhouse in here—I'm afraid you're going to have to be a waiter for the rest of your shift."

"B-But I don't know—how do I—" Harry sputtered.

"Someone else from the waitstaff will clue you in," Regulus told him. "Now I've got to go. Ashley has a baby coming out of her."

That sounded pretty serious. Harry ran back to the kitchen as Regulus grabbed Dylan's arm and escorted him out through the front door. If this was the sort of thing Regulus had to deal with on a regular basis, Harry wondered how on Earth he managed to keep his sanity at all. No wonder he liked the quiet of #12 Grimmauld Place. As he told Sirius, it wasn't lonely and boring; it was peaceful.

The one who helped Harry out was a girl of about nineteen or twenty with short red hair in a feather cut. She seemed friendly; in fact, the friendlier waitstaff seemed to come out now that the ringleaders were gone.

"I'm Marie," she said pleasantly. "You're Harry, right?"

"Yeah," said Harry nervously.

"Well, I can help you be a waiter," she told him. "It's not so hard to do, at least not for only an hour. Just go to the tables you're assigned, and write down their orders, and take them back to the kitchen. And if anybody tells you, 'Nothing on the menu,' get a superior."

"What?" said Harry.

"Oh, I don't think anyone will say it to you." Marie giggled. "But every so often, I'll ask a guy what he wants, and he'll say, 'Nothing on the menu.' It's pretty obnoxious, but I have to flirt with them, so I can get a better tip."

"I will _not_ flirt with the customers."

"Of course not, but you're so adorable, I'm sure they'll tip you fine," Marie said laughingly, ruffling Harry's hair like Sirius did.

 _Adorable?_ Harry didn't think that was a compliment, exactly, because it made him feel like he was about nine years old, but he did like the idea of good tips. Just as Marie had predicted, most of the customers were nice to him. They seemed to understand he was a newbie, and they weren't too difficult in their orders. Harry remembered the Everyday Heroes discount, and he gave it to a couple of doctors, one veteran, three teachers, and one fireman. He got a decent amount of money in tips, too.

Regulus came back not too long after Harry had been waiting for a while, and was pleased with his progress. He spent the last ten minutes of Harry's shift on the phone with Store #7, trying to find his replacement. Finally he did, in the form of a huge woman with a cane. Regulus got everything straight with her, and then he left.

"Now then," he said. "Let's enjoy a nice, peaceful dinner."

"Yes," Harry agreed. "By the way, I'd like tomorrow off, please—as well as the rest of my natural life."

…

The next day, Saturday, Regulus went to work while Harry sat home, and this time around, that was just the way he wanted it. He called Sirius and told him everything about his new job. Sirius thought it was funny, and he said calling Dylan clueless was "being nice about it." When Harry told him about Bruiser working at Reggie's Pizza Empire because he was a pizza-face, Sirius laughed out loud.

Regulus didn't always take Sundays off, but he usually did, and Harry was glad, for that was the evening, August 23, 1992, when Sirius and Barbara were coming home. Regulus and Harry were going to meet them at the airport in the nearest Muggle town to Hogsmeade.

So around seven, after dinner, when Barbara and Sirius's flight was supposed to get in, Harry and Regulus Apparated to that town. Harry was used to Apparating by now. At first it had been unpleasant, but Barbara wasn't able to Apparate in her condition, and they'd basically had to rely on Muggle transportation, which got really tiring when you considered the fact that they were always traveling between the Scottish Highlands and London. So that was why Harry didn't have any complaints about being able to get somewhere instantaneously. Once Phoebe was born, Barbara would be able to do Side-Along Apparition, too.

Regulus had been acting a bit cranky, and Harry figured he wasn't quite over what had gone down in his restaurant; he'd lost three members of his waitstaff now, and the Pepe family was angry with him. There just seemed to constantly be a thorn in his side, that was all, so Harry didn't try to talk with him while they waited by the gate for Mr. and Mrs. Black. The airport in this Muggle village was so tiny that only a few planes left and arrived each day.

Finally, there they were, at the gate, both looking very tan, Sirius with a sombrero on his head and Barbara with an umbrella hat. They were wearing matching white T-shirts and jeans; Barbara's hair was pulled into a long dark ponytail and Sirius's was loose, as usual, falling all around his shoulders and in his eyes. He looked like he hadn't shaved the whole time they were in California, and it was beyond "stubble" by now. Barbara was wearing oversized sunglasses decorated with the star-spangled banner pattern, and Sirius had a belt with a big cowboy buckle. Harry jumped up and waved at them.

Barbara pulled her sunglasses up and grinned; Sirius's eyes lit up, and he smiled, too. Once they were finally out of the huge crowd trying to get off the plane, they rushed up to greet Regulus and Harry. When they got closer, Harry realized their T-shirts read "Bun Maker" (Sirius) and "Bun Baker" (Barbara).

"So…how was California?" Regulus asked.

"Hot," Sirius replied, taking off his sombrero and setting it on Regulus's head. "You should have mentioned, Reg, that America is so hot."

"You visited California and Arizona in the summertime!" said Regulus. "Of _course_ it was hot, you dolt! Now, spend just one winter in Chicago and just try to tell me America doesn't get cold."

"What are those T-shirts?" Harry asked, pointing at them.

"Matching maternity T-shirts," Barbara explained. "We found them at the gift shop."

"I can't believe it," Regulus scoffed. "Must you two be so tacky?"

"Hah! You think that's bad," said Barbara. "I wanted to buy the one that read 'Mummy Almost Swallowed You.'"

"Besides, we got matching T-shirts for you and Holly, too, Reggie," said Sirius, smirking.

"I don't _want_ matching T-shirts!" Regulus yelled, but Sirius was pulling them out of his pocket.

Harry looked. The men's one read "The Boss," and the women's one read "The REAL Boss." It seemed fitting, as well as hilarious, but Regulus's face was red again and he scowled at them. True, teasing Regulus was kind of fun.

"I think Holly will like those, Regulus," said Harry.

"She will not, because she'll never see them." Regulus frowned at Sirius and Barbara. "You two are _so_ immature."

"Give me a break," said Barbara.

Regulus Apparated back home, still angry with them, and really the only way back to Hogsmeade was to walk. It wasn't so bad, since the little Wizarding village was only two miles away. They got home in a little under an hour (they walked slower because Barbara was just waddling along). All of them exhausted, they took an early night, glad to be back together in their new house.


	32. Shock Wave

The next day, the twenty-fourth, Sirius told Harry he had an appointment with Dr. Grant, his pediatrician, that coming Friday. Harry didn't mind, because she had a very good bedside manner and he stopped being afraid of her as soon as they met last summer. She had light-blue eyes that twinkled behind her glasses, so they reminded Harry a lot of Dumbledore's.

Barbara was on her thirty-seventh week of pregnancy now, and for those who couldn't do the math, that meant she had just begun her ninth month. To Harry, it seemed like this pregnancy would never end, and yet he still had to wait until September 12. He knew about it before he was supposed to, since Sirius hadn't been planning on telling anyone until the second trimester. But now everyone knew. The truth was, Barbara was hugely, obviously pregnant. Her doctor said Phoebe was the size of a melon, which Harry certainly believed. Not a watermelon, not yet, but more like a honeydew melon. Barbara said that just made her hungry for honeydews.

Sirius told Harry that when they went to the doctor, they showed pictures of a baby growing on a chart, from weeks one through forty, starting with just two cells and ending with a baby that looked like it was born already, and he said it gave him a very weird feeling—the same one, in fact, he felt during childbirth class when they watched the video of the baby growing.

"You have a weird feeling, as in, a bad feeling?" Harry asked.

"No," said Sirius, and he looked a little faraway. "It's more like…a special feeling. That's the only way I can describe it."

Harry didn't really understand. Maybe it was because he didn't see the chart.

Either way, things were getting baby-proofed at their house. They were quite thankful that Gwen wasn't likely to pop in, considering it wasn't exactly convenient to take Muggle transportation from London to Hogsmeade, especially round-trip. Andromeda was able to Apparate there, though, and from giving birth to Tonks, she knew all about babies and getting the house ready for them. She was kind of like a non-annoying version of Gwen, Harry supposed.

On Wednesday, Harry woke up early, and hungry, so he stumbled downstairs to see if there was anything for breakfast. Brownies, maybe. That sounded good. He was standing in the kitchen, cramming them into his mouth, when Barbara walked—well, waddled—into the kitchen, too. Her hair was all piled up on her head in a messy bun, but not the kind of bun that's intentionally messy. As usual after she'd gotten pregnant, her hair was quite oily, and she looked even more bloated that day. She kept one hand on Phoebe, like she was going to fall out.

"Morning, Harry," she mumbled. "How're you?"

"Fine, just fine," said Harry, offering her a brownie. She shook her head and lowered herself onto one of the kitchen chairs with a groan. She looked terrible, so Harry asked, "What's with you?"

"It's this pregnancy," she said tiredly. "You know…my back just really hurts, and I have to deal with this stupid Braxton-Hicks thing."

"What's that?"

"It's when you get cramps that are sort of like contractions, but they aren't."

" _Why?"_

"Because Braxton-Hicks hates pregnant women, whoever he is," said Barbara sullenly, and she winced. "Ow! See, that hurts. I've been having them the past few weeks or so, but the doctor says I might have them all up until Phoebe's born."

"Well, maybe when Phoebe _is_ born, it will all be worth it," Harry said, trying to put it in a positive light.

"Yeah…" She groaned again and made a loud noise of frustration, banging her fist on the table. "I _hate_ this! Ow, ow, OW! Why do babies have to grow the way they do?!"

"Why are you asking me?" said Harry. "I don't know anything about pregnancy."

"Oh, no," said Barbara.

"What?" said Harry warily.

"I think I have diarrhea now, but I can't get up," she said miserably.

"I'll help you," said Harry hurriedly, placing his arms under her armpits to hoist her up. She was even heavier than he'd expected. Together they managed to get her standing up, and she rushed off to the nearest toilet. Harry felt bad for her, but still more thankful than ever that he was a boy.

…

Sirius spent a lot of that day taking care of Barbara; he thought the honeymoon hadn't been so great on her system and maybe they should've waited until September, after Phoebe was born. Harry didn't see how it was possible, if all she did was shop and lay on the beach and get spa treatments, but then again, it was like he told Barbara that morning—he didn't know a thing about pregnancy.

Barbara complained of back pain. It turned out the reason she was up so early in the morning was because she hadn't gotten any sleep last night. Sirius sat with her on the couch, one hand rubbing her back, the other stroking her hair.

"At least it's good that she's kicking, right?" he said.

"Guess so." Barbara nodded and set both hands on top of the super-size belly.

Harry was sitting next to Barbara, with Sirius on her other side. When she and Sirius were just staring down at the baby bump like they had never seen one before, Harry said, tentatively, "Barbara?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"D'you mind if I…?" Harry gestured vaguely in the direction of Phoebe. So far, he hadn't felt her for kicks, and if he didn't now, maybe he never would.

"Oh…sure," said Barbara, looking surprised, and she took both hands off.

Harry tried to remember the times he had seen Sirius feeling Barbara's baby bump. Was he just supposed to put one hand on Barbara's belly, or both of them, or even his ear, like Hermione did once? Should he put it near Phoebe's feet or her head? Where _was_ her head? What if it was near the…Oh God, why couldn't he remember the name of the female part—the one the baby came out of? He was pretty sure that, in the process of _making_ the baby, that was also where a man was supposed to put _his_ part, but that was something else entirely.

"Problems?" said Sirius, who had been watching Harry.

"Well, uh…where do I put my hand?" Harry asked awkwardly. "I mean, I don't know where her head is or anything."

"Just put it here," said Barbara, taking Harry's hand and placing it on the front of the bump, right on top of her belly button. Harry waited a little bit, feeling more awkward than ever, until finally, there it was—the feeling of Phoebe kicking, like her little feet were pounding against Barbara's body. Barbara gave Harry a smile, the first one he had seen all day.

"Oh…wow!" said Harry. Sirius raised his eyebrows. Harry kept both hands on top of the baby bump this time, waiting for another kick, and it happened. But that was when Barbara winced again.

"Owww…" she moaned.

"Another one of those pesky Braxton-Hicks things?" said Sirius.

"Uh-huh," Barbara said, clinging to him. "But it hurts worse now."

"Poor Barbara," Sirius soothed, running his hands through her hair. She looked near tears, so Sirius added, "Listen, honey…I'll go into town and buy you a painkilling potion at the apothecary. I don't know if it'll work, but it probably will."

Sirius gave her a kiss on the head and Disapparated, leaving Harry alone with Barbara. Harry didn't know what to say to make Barbara feel better, so he was glad when the phone rang. It was Hermione.

"Hi, Harry," she said. "What are you doing?"

"Trying to deal with Barbara," he replied. "She's having pains."

" _What?_ You mean she's in _labor?"_

"No. She says it's called Braxton-Hicks."

"Oh." Hermione sounded sympathetic. "My mum says the worst part about those is that you always think you're going into labor but you're actually not. You know, false labor."

"How can you tell?" Harry asked.

"Well, usually the Braxton-Hicks will go away after she uses the bathroom," said Hermione. "Or if she moves positions. If they don't get stronger or more painful, she's probably fine."

"She told me she had diarrhea this morning," said Harry, wishing she'd just stuck with _I have to use the washroom,_ like Regulus did. "But she said they just got worse."

"Ask her if she's having them more often than usual today," said Hermione, and Harry asked.

"Oh, yeah," said Barbara, nodding. "Like, uh…I don't know, every six or seven minutes, maybe."

"Are they getting stronger?" Harry continued. "You know, more painful?"

"Definitely," said Barbara, leaning her head back on the couch.

"She says they're getting stronger and she has them every six or seven minutes," Harry repeated to Hermione.

"Harry!" Hermione's voice was higher-pitched now, and she sounded worried. "You know what this means? She's probably in _labor!"_

"How can she be in labor?" Harry croaked. "She isn't due until September 12!"

"Well, sometimes babies are early, that's all," Hermione told him. "You'd better get Sirius to take her to a Birth Clinic."

"But I can't!" said Harry. "Sirius is in town getting her a painkilling potion!"

"Oh, no," Hermione moaned. "I can't send my mother to help, because that would violate the Statute of Secrecy…what are you going to do, Harry?"

"I have no idea!" Harry cried. "Aren't _you_ usually the one who figures out what we do?"

"Okay, maybe call Regulus at work," Hermione suggested. "He's probably at Store #8 because that's where the accident happened."

"Great idea, 'Mione," Harry said in relief. "I gotta go."

"Good luck," she said, and hung up.

Harry decided not to tell Barbara she was in labor until Regulus arrived, because he didn't want her to panic. So he called Store #8. The person who answered the phone wasn't Regulus, but maybe Regulus was there.

"Hello, this is Sally, how may I help you?" said the woman on the other end.

"Is Reggie there?" Harry gasped.

"No, not today," she said. "Sorry, honey."

Harry hung up, wondering what to do. He called Store #7, but they said the same thing. That meant Regulus was probably at the corporate office, but there was no way to call them, since Harry didn't know Regulus's work number, and he doubted Barbara did, either. There was no way to contact Sirius at all. Finally, Harry went to the fireplace and used the Floo to call Regulus's home.

"Kreacher?" Harry called. "Kreacher!"

The old elf shuffled into view. "Yes, Harry Potter?"

"Where's Regulus?"

"Master Regulus is at work today, Harry Potter."

"I _know_ he's at work," said Harry exasperatedly. "But _where?"_

"Kreacher does not know," the elf replied tonelessly.

"Well, can't you find out?" Harry demanded. "Don't you have some house-elf magic thing that helps you find him, wherever he is?"

"Kreacher wonders why Harry Potter wants Master Regulus," Kreacher said suspiciously.

"Because your Mistress is going to have a baby," said Harry. "Hear that? The _baby_ is coming, and Sirius is gone. Barbara and I are all alone."

Harry wasn't sure how much house-elves knew what that meant, but Kreacher seemed to—maybe because he remembered the births of Sirius and Regulus. He didn't even throw a fit when Harry said Barbara was his new Mistress.

"Master Regulus says if Kreacher needs him, Kreacher needs to give a little whistle," Kreacher said mysteriously, and shuffled away again.

"What? Kreacher, come back here!" Harry shouted. Luckily, a few moments later, Kreacher did, this time with a gold whistle around his neck.

"Give a little whistle," Kreacher repeated, and blew the whistle. Harry thought that was a little weird, but at least Regulus had set up a means of communication between him and Kreacher—maybe so he could come home if Kreacher was feeling extra sad that day or something.

Harry heard a scream from the living room and pulled his head out of the fireplace. Barbara was in there, clutching her abdomen.

"Harry, it hurts," she sobbed. "Where's Sirius?"

"I thought he was getting you a painkilling potion," said Harry, coming to sit by her.

"But…but he should be _back_ by now!" she wailed, and Harry figured Sirius had made some kind of detour. Maybe he was buying her sweets or a new dress or something. Normally, that would have cheered her up, but it was the last thing they needed today.

"Barbara, I'll help you," said Harry desperately. "What do you need?"

The contraction seemed to have eased up a little, because Barbara looked relieved. Harry knew it would be five minutes, or maybe even less, until she got another one.

"Just stay with me, Harry?" she pleaded.

"Of course," Harry told her, and that was when they heard a _crack_ in the foyer. Regulus!

"Harry?" he called. "Barbara?"

"In here!" Harry cried. "Hurry!"

"Kreacher said the baby is coming and Sirius isn't home," Regulus said as he made his way to the living room. "Is this true or is it just one of his stories?"

"It's true!" Harry said.

" _What?"_ Barbara shrieked.

"Barbara, we think you're in labor," Regulus said, crouching down next to her. "But it's going to be all right. Harry, where did Sirius tell you he was going, exactly?"

"To the apothecary, but he should have been back by now," Harry said worriedly.

"I'll go check for him there," said Regulus. "Harry, just keep Barbara calm until I get back."

 _Calm?_ How was Harry supposed to keep Barbara calm if he was freaking out himself? But he just watched Regulus leave again. In the meantime, Barbara's contractions seemed to hurt worse now that she knew they were real. Harry knew when she was having one because that was when she'd shriek or moan or cry and clutch her stomach. He didn't know what to do.

"Barbara, uh…" Harry tried to think of what he'd seen on TV. _You're doing great_ , maybe? But she wasn't pushing the baby out yet! "Do you remember anything you learned at that childbirth class?"

"No," she whimpered. "I can't breathe deeply. I can't breathe at all!"

"Yes, you can!" Harry at least knew she needed to be able to breathe to have a baby. "Just take a really deep breath. It won't hurt," he added, not at all sure.

Barbara tried to breathe deeply, but her breath was constricted. Harry wondered if she was having a panic attack. He wondered if _he_ was having a panic attack. His heart was beating so fast, it hurt. Would this someday be him as the father, with Hermione in labor? Freaking out, but with nobody to call? Hermione was known to keep a level head in danger, but in labor, who knew? Why was he even thinking about this? He had to think about Barbara.

"Do you think you can hold her in, maybe?" he asked tentatively. "You know, like you hold in your pee?"

"No, babies don't work that way," Barbara said shakily. "And I can't hold in my pee anyway."

"So she's just going to come right out?!" Harry cried. What if Barbara gave birth right here in the living room? What if, by the time Regulus and Sirius got back, it was too late, and Harry had to deliver the baby?

"I-I don't think I'm at the pushing part yet, honey," she gasped, but that was when she went into another contraction. They were getting longer and closer together, just like Hermione said.

"Barbara?" said Harry.

"Oh, where _are_ they?" she moaned, now with tears in her eyes. " _Where are they?!"_

"Is there anything I can do?" Harry asked desperately, but Barbara shook her head, tears flowing freely out of her eyes. Harry tried to put his arms around her, but she shook him off with acute strength. There was no way he could call the paramedics, because they couldn't access Hogsmeade…but then he remembered they did have a phone, and he called the children's hospital in London. Luckily, Dr. Grant was on call.

"Harry?" she said, sounding mildly worried. "What's the matter?"

"Oh, Dr. Grant! It's terrible!" said Harry, falling apart. "Sirius's wife has gone into labor, and we don't know where Sirius is, and his brother's out looking for him, and I'm all alone! You've got to help me!"

"Do you need me to send an ambulance?" Dr. Grant asked.

"No!" cried Harry hysterically. "We're all the way in our new home in Scotland! But she's freaking out and I just want to keep her safe till Sirius comes back! I don't want the baby to come out while they're gone! Please help!"

"Has her water broken?" said Dr. Grant calmly.

"I don't know!" Harry was almost crying now, too. "I don't even know what that means!"

"Harry," said Dr. Grant, "the worst thing you and Barbara can do right now is panic. Just breathe in for four seconds, then out for another four. Do that a few times until you calm down. Hand the phone over to the mother, please. I'll stay on the line with you two until help comes."

"But what if they don't come in time and you have to talk me through delivering the baby over the phone?!"

"That's not going to happen, honey," she said. "If Sirius and his brother aren't back by the time her water breaks, I want you to call 999. Now, please hand the phone to her."

Never before had Harry been so thankful for Dr. Grant. Barbara was even worse now, gasping and sobbing, but Harry handed the phone to her anyway, hoping Dr. Grant could calm her down. Then he tried to calm down himself, breathing deeply like she told him, hoping his heart would stop beating so fast before it exploded.

Barbara was talking to Dr. Grant on the phone, and Harry was just standing there, breathing and trying to relax, when the door burst open and there was Sirius, with Regulus behind him.

"Oh, honey," said Sirius, running to her side. "Oh my God…who are you on the phone with?"

With one shaking hand, Barbara held out the phone.

"Yes, thank you for looking after them," Sirius said. "We're getting her to the birth center now…Everything should be fine…Thank you."

"I'm so glad you're here, Sirius," said Harry in relief. "I was afraid I would have to deliver the baby."

"You know, there's still the question of how we're going to _get_ to the nearest Birth Clinic." Regulus crossed his arms and frowned.

"Maybe we could take a cab," said Sirius.

"Oh, yeah, a Muggle cab could _totally_ take us to a Birth Clinic," Regulus said sarcastically.

"And we can't Apparate, obviously…Floo?" Sirius suggested.

"We can Floo if she's pregnant, but not in labor," Regulus told him. "All that bouncing around in between grates could easily break her water."

"Is anyone going to bother to explain what that means?!" Harry demanded.

"It means there's a sort of fluid sack protecting the baby, and when it breaks, she goes into labor," said Sirius. "I guess it sort of looks like rice pudding, but if it's greenish-brownish, that means it has the baby's first poo in it."

"Oh, that's so gross!" Barbara shrieked, and Harry agreed.

"I am _never_ going to be a dad!" he declared loudly. "Never, ever, _ever!"_

Harry thought he saw a trace of a smile on Sirius's face, but it disappeared once he turned back towards Barbara. It seemed she was going through her worst contraction yet.

"I can't _take_ it, Siri," she moaned. "You've got to get me there somehow so they can give me that potion."

"Hey, I've got an idea," said Harry. "I know it sounds crazy…but what about the Knight Bus? You know, 'Everyone's Last Resort'?"

"Harry, last time we were on that bus you nearly split your head open!" Sirius reminded him.

"Well, not exactly," said Harry, but then they heard Barbara.

"Sirius," she gasped, "if you have an alternative, I would be delighted to hear it."

"Oh—fine," he grouched. "Come on."

Barbara didn't trust her legs, so Sirius helped her up, and they headed into the foyer and out the door, Regulus and Harry following along behind. Sirius stuck out his wand hand to call for the big purple bus. Stan Shunpike started to introduce himself, but then he saw Barbara.

"You got a pregnant lady there," he said, pointing. "Birth Clinic?"

"Yes, please!" said Sirius, and he and Stan helped Barbara up the steps.

"Where's the nearest one?" Regulus asked. It was the middle of the day, so the Knight Bus had seats and not beds. "How long will it take to get there?"

"The nearest one's in Edinburgh," Ernie called from the driver's seat.

"That's _hours_ away!" Harry croaked.

"Not by the Knight Bus," said Stan proudly. "We should be there in 'bout ten minutes."

Barbara looked incredibly thankful. Once they were on the bus, it took off. Everything was fine for a full minute and a half, but Ernie's erratic driving, Harry discovered, wasn't much better than if Barbara had gone whirling around in the Floo. BANG! They left the Scottish Highlands for a busier town. Barbara was screaming again, out of both fear and pain. There was hardly any space between her contractions anymore.

"We've got to make that light up there!" Harry shouted, pointing at a traffic light up ahead, which was turning yellow.

"Hang on!" shouted Stan, and BAM! The bus catapulted forward in order to make it to the front of the line of cars. Harry would have flown forward again, but Regulus, who had grabbed onto a pole, caught him by the shoulder. Sirius and Barbara were not so lucky. Sirius smacked into the window, hard, and Barbara fell right onto her front. Slowly she got up, holding her head, but then she shrieked again.

"What is it?" said Sirius, turning around to look at her.

"The water broke, the water broke, the water broke!" she cried over and over, her voice escalating into screams.

" _What?!"_ Sirius repeated, running to her side.

"Hey!" Stan Shunpike said, turning to look around. His face had suddenly gone pale. "If that pregnant lady gets her mess all over my bus—"

"Then there's not much we can do about it, is there?" Sirius fumed, standing up and brushing off his hands. "Barbara, dear…do you think you can make it to the Birth Clinic?"

"I don't _know!"_ she wailed. Harry felt his legs turn to rubber.

"Oh God, oh God…" said Sirius. "Come on, honey…How long?"

"Eight minutes," said Stan, checking his watch. To say he looked nervous would be a vast understatement. Barbara screamed again, but it was a different kind of scream this time. More of a lower-pitched one.

"It hurts so _bad!"_ Barbara howled, clinging to the front of Sirius's robes. "I don't know if I can do it…I can't, I CAN'T!"

"Don't say that!" Sirius said. "We'll just get to the Birth Clinic—get you that potion—"

"We're not going to make it!" Barbara was crying again. "OH MY GOD, _IT'S COMING OUT!"_

"Are you sure, Barbara?" Regulus asked anxiously, stepping forward.

"DOES THIS LOOK UNSURE TO YOU?!" she screeched.

"Can't you 'old it in?" Stan demanded.

"NO! Mum was right, Mum was right!" she said. "I-I can't hold back my pushing!"

From what Harry had observed, mostly of TV, it looked like pushing took a lot of effort. It didn't make any sense at all that a woman wouldn't be able to stop it.

"O-Okay, I know what we need to do," Sirius said, his face stark white, but it looked like he was trying to remain calm. "Barbara, uh—we've got to take your tights off. Underwear, too."

Barbara was in too much pain, and too deep in labor, to be embarrassed, so she just yanked them off. Regulus turned around while she took her pants off, so Harry did, too. She was wearing a loose dress on top that fell to her knees, so it wasn't like they were going to see anything, but neither of them wanted to get flashed while she was disrobing.

"Six minutes!" said Ernie, banging through traffic again. Sirius held Barbara still and Harry and Regulus both grabbed onto poles. When they saw Barbara again, her skirt covered most of her.

"Okay, just hang on," said Sirius, setting his hands on top of Barbara's knees. She was sitting almost upright with her legs spread. Harry remembered how Hermione said you weren't supposed to give birth in that position, but maybe it gave Sirius a good vantage point. Well, it wasn't anything he hadn't seen before.

"Siri, my _back!"_ she moaned, getting onto her knees and leaning against the side of the bus. Harry had heard her say once she hated squatting, but she had no problems with kneeling. Sirius looked like he wanted to go around and give her a back massage, but there wasn't time, because Barbara started screaming the loudest Harry had heard so far. It was kind of like seeing a car accident on the side of the road—horrible to look at, yet Harry couldn't seem to tear his eyes away. He swore he saw blood on the floor, and felt chills. _Blood?_

"That's it, honey, you're doing fine," Sirius was telling Barbara, holding one of her hands, the other on her back as she pushed with every ounce of strength she had. Stan Shunpike's face had turned from white to green.

"Two minutes!" shouted Ernie. "We're going to make it!"

"What's the point?" Regulus snapped. "She's almost born anyway!"

"Her head's out, her head's out!" Barbara gasped. Harry didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing if they weren't at the Birth Clinic yet.

Barbara pushed again with a moan, sinking back down onto the floor, her legs spread.

"Oh, God," said Sirius.

"What?!" shrieked Barbara.

"The cord's wrapped around her neck," he told her.

" _What?!"_ Barbara burst into tears again, which was the last thing they wanted, but Sirius took out his wand and performed what Harry realized was a Severing Charm. Barbara went into another contraction, and Sirius held onto the baby's head, letting his wand land on the floor.

"Push the rest of her out!" he yelled over Barbara's loud wails of agony. "C'mon, it'll only take one more!"

There was another bang as the Knight Bus slammed to a halt in front of a tiny village that seemed to consist mostly of shacks, with no clinic in sight. Harry wondered if the Knight Bus had maybe run out of gas, or if it ran on gas, or why he was wondering this at all as Sirius, his face as white as snow, lifted a tiny baby girl out and up into his arms. Barbara collapsed back against the wall with one more moan of exhaustion. There was a lot of blood and gunk on the floor, which Harry hadn't expected, and it made him feel a little sick, although not as much as Stan, who ran out onto the pavement, his hand over his mouth.

"Oh my God…" said Barbara, staring up at Phoebe out of tear-filled hazel eyes. Sirius set her on the ground, so they could both look at her, but something was wrong. Even Harry could tell. Phoebe was completely white, and completely still. She wasn't crying; in fact, it didn't look like she was even breathing. She was covered in birth fluids, too, and her face was an alarming sort of gray color.

Sirius reached out his hand, which was quite as bloody and messy as his daughter was, and gave her a little shake. Nothing happened. His eyes were full of fear.

"Pheebs?" he whispered, his voice hoarse. "Pheebs…?"

Barbara was watching, on her knees, her eyes wide, her mouth open in horror.

"Oh, no," Regulus muttered. Harry didn't know whether to cry or throw up or faint or what. This couldn't be real.

And then it happened. Phoebe twitched a little, and made a tiny coughing sound.

"She's alive, she's alive," said Sirius in relief, taking her into his arms again, tears glistening at the corners of his eyes.

"But what's wrong with her? Why isn't she crying?" Barbara asked tremulously. Harry was wondering the same thing, although he couldn't have spoken if his life depended on it.

"Hmm…" Sirius held his daughter upright in one arm and reached for his wand again. Then he touched it to her throat and said, loudly and clearly, " _Anapneo!"_

Phoebe coughed a little more, Sirius patted her back, and suddenly she choked up some more bloody, messy gunk, followed, finally, wonderfully, by a feeble little cry. Sirius smiled and handed the baby back to Barbara.

"Here you are, love," he said gently. Barbara took Phoebe in her arms and started to cry too, huge, racking sobs that shook her whole body, and Sirius took _her_ into _his_ arms, so that they were all together as one, and Harry knew, despite the sound of Stan Shunpike puking up a lung outside, that it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.


	33. Miracles

It was Regulus, naturally, who came to his senses first.

"Listen, I'm going to go get a Healer," he said to no one in particular, and left the Knight Bus. To Harry's surprise, he walked right into one of the shacks.

"It's a lot bigger on the inside," Sirius explained, noticing Harry's confusion.

Harry still couldn't speak. His mind and body both were reeling. He had just witnessed the Miracle of Life way before he had expected to, and he didn't know how he felt about it; he had planned to sit in the waiting room, raiding the vending machine (if wizards had those) and reading magazines like _Wizards' Health_ and _Pureblood Quarterly_ with Regulus. Hermione was right, as usual; birth was not at all like it was shown on TV.

Phoebe was crying, so loudly, and Barbara was too. Harry didn't mind if Phoebe cried because it meant she was alive. Hopefully the Healers could tell him if she was healthy, too. It wasn't long before Regulus rushed out of the shack again with two Healers in his wake, one male, one female. Each was carrying a goblet of potion.

"Ma'am," said the female Healer, stepping onto the bus and shaking Barbara's shoulder. "Ma'am…"

"She's a little hormonal, I think," said Sirius.

"Please drink this potion," said the female Healer, holding the goblet out for Barbara to take. "It's Potiogravida-PP."

"Potiogravida Pee-Pee?" Sirius repeated, smirking a little.

"Yes, we all know the name is hilarious," said the male Healer, rolling his eyes (Harry noticed Regulus did, too). "As if you didn't know, it's an acronym for 'Potiogravida-Post-Partum.' Its counterpart, Potiogravida-PN, is short for 'Potiogravida-Prenatal.' Potiogravida-PP is a sort of combination of a Calming Draught, a Blood-Replenishing Potion, a Skin, Nail and Hair Growth Potion, a Mood Stabilizer Potion, and several nutrient potions. Like Potiogravida-PN, it is tasteless, odorless and colorless to eliminate any taste or smell aversions. Witches are expected to take it twice a day for approximately six months after giving birth."

"I knew that," Sirius told him.

"But I'm not a witch, I'm a Muggle," Barbara said tearfully. She didn't take the goblet.

"You still have female reproductive organs and human vitals," said the male Healer. "So it will work fine."

Sirius took the potion and handed it to Barbara, who slowly drank it.

"What's the other potion for?" he wanted to know.

"It's simply a Calming Draught," the male Healer replied. "For you, the father."

"Give mine to Harry," said Sirius quickly. "He looks like he hasn't got an ounce of blood in his body."

Harry realized, as the male Healer walked over to him, that his legs had given out at some point and he was collapsed onto the floor. Taking a huge, shuddering breath, he reached out for the potion, and said the first thing that came to his mind.

"Is my baby sister going to be okay?"

"She looks fine, son," said the male Healer, "but I'll have a look anyway and see what's what. Healer Marzowith is tending to the baby's mother right now."

Harry looked at Barbara, who had finished a few sips of her potion and was being looked over by the female Healer, Healer Marzowith. When he drank his potion, he felt soothed. It was helped along by the fact that the male Healer didn't frown or look concerned in any way as he examined Phoebe. When he was done, he tapped her with his wand; she was all cleaned up now, wrapped in a blanket and wearing a pink hat. Her thick black hair stuck out from underneath. She looked a lot cuter when she wasn't covered in blood and birth fluids, although she did look wrinkled, and she was still wailing like a siren. Luckily, her skin was more of a pinkish-red than white or gray.

"How is she?" Harry asked again.

"She's a little small for a newborn, but otherwise she's doing wonderfully," said the male Healer. Harry felt like a huge amount of weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Phoebe was going to be okay!

"What about Barbara?" Sirius asked Healer Marzowith.

"She's got a little vaginal tearing," she said.

 _That's the word_ , thought Harry, and then he realized what "tearing" meant. For about the millionth time that day, he thanked the heavens above that he was a boy.

"Oh, no," Barbara said in despair. "I don't have to get stitches down there, do I?"

"She really _is_ a Muggle," said Healer Marzowith good-naturedly. "No, of course not, honey. I can heal it with magic."

Nobody asked the next, most obvious question. Harry was sure Sirius was wondering it, but figured it was in poor taste to ask. Luckily, Healer Marzowith answered it for them.

"Physically, you can have sexual intercourse right away," she said. "But you might want to consider how that will make you feel emotionally. After all, pregnancy drastically changes your body, and you have a baby to take care of as well. Sex is extremely emotional, so you have to think about what it does to your psyche just as much as what it does to your physical body."

Regulus looked deeply uncomfortable; Harry wondered if he was thinking of Holly, and remembered what Sirius said about Regulus reading too deeply into emotion. Or maybe Sirius didn't read into emotion enough? Either way, it was all very confusing, and Harry mostly wished Healer Marzowith had chosen to have this conversation with Barbara in private. The world wouldn't end if Barbara and Sirius couldn't have sex for a couple of weeks, would it?

"I'll think about it," Barbara promised. "So are you going to fix me?"

"Well, we should wait until the placenta comes along," said Healer Marzowith.

"The what?" said Barbara. But it looked like she was sorry she asked, because suddenly she cried, "Oh no! Ow!"

"There it is," said the male Healer.

" _Now_ what?" Harry asked.

"With another contraction or two, she'll push out the placenta," Healer Marzowith explained. "That grows inside her too, and passes all her nutrients and oxygen on to the baby. Now that the baby is out and breathing on her own, she doesn't need it anymore."

Sirius started like he was going to do something, but the male Healer laughed and held him back.

"You don't have to do anything now, Dad, but hold her hand," he said. So that was what Sirius did. Harry turned around again because he didn't want to see anything else come out. He heard Healer Marzowith Banishing the placenta ( _"Evanesco!"_ ) and he felt that once she was done performing the spell, it was okay to face Barbara.

"Do you want to get a shower and fixed up now, ma'am?" Healer Marzowith asked Barbara. "Or do you want spend a few more minutes with the baby? By the way, does she have a name?"

"She's had a name for a long time," Harry told her. "Phoebe Venus Black the Second."

"Pheebs, for short," said Sirius jokingly.

"And I'd like to spend a few more minutes with her and everyone else," Barbara said; by now, the newborn had fallen asleep, safe in her mother's arms. "If you don't mind. My vagina doesn't really hurt that much."

Harry could have survived without hearing that last part, but he was still glad they were going to be meeting Phoebe—in fact, now they were passing her around, like a child during Show-and-Tell time at school. The two Healers went inside, certain that everything was fine for now, since Harry and Barbara had both taken their potions. Regulus got Phoebe first.

"Hey, beautiful girl," said Regulus, holding his niece gently so as not to wake her. "I'm your Uncle Regulus…" She stirred a little, and he rocked her. "I never thought I'd live to meet _you_ …But here I am. Here _we_ are. And that's a miracle in itself. Congratulations, Sirius and Barbara."

Regulus handed the baby to Sirius, who held her proudly against his shoulder.

"Harry?" he asked. "How would you like to hold her?"

"Me? Oh, I don't know…" Harry trailed off nervously. Phoebe looked as fragile as the Black family wedding china. It seemed like if he dropped her, she would shatter into a million pieces. Or maybe she would bounce, like Neville. Either way, he didn't want to risk it.

"It's okay," Barbara told him, smiling weakly, but happily. "You've been waiting for so long to meet her. It's time you held her in your arms."

Harry's heart was beating fast and hard again. He had never held a baby before.

"Here, I'll show you how to do it." Sirius got up and walked over to Harry. Since he'd taken his Calming Draught, he wasn't downright catatonic anymore, but he was still kind of in a state of shock. Sirius showed Harry how to hold her head in one hand, her bottom in the other, then sort of lean her head against his chest, but to the side so she could breathe. Finally, she was safe in Harry's arms, and Sirius went back to sit with Barbara.

"Phoebe…" said Harry, looking down at the sleeping baby. "I'm…I'm Harry. Your brother."

And then, to his great surprise, Phoebe finally opened her gorgeous eyes, blinking a little. They weren't hazel like Barbara's, or gray like Sirius's; instead, shockingly, they were the exact same as Regulus's.

"She's got your eyes, Regulus," said Harry.

Regulus, looking surprised, went over to look, and he saw that Phoebe did indeed have stunning light-blue eyes, shining in her eyes like diamonds. And then…she smiled. Harry didn't care if they said newborns didn't smile; Phoebe _was_ smiling at him, her diamond eyes staring up at him in wonder, all the shiny thick black hair, just like Sirius's, poking out from underneath her knit pink cap. There was even a lock of it hanging in her eyes. Harry reached out to brush it aside—but that was when she reached out and wrapped her whole hand around his finger.

Maybe it was Phoebe's incredibly tight grip that did it, but as she closed her eyes, starting to fall asleep again, letting out a tiny baby yawn, Harry finally felt that lump rising in his throat. No! He didn't want to cry. Phoebe and Barbara had done enough of that. But the sight of her in his arms, holding onto his hand with all of her five perfect fingers, breathing softly and trusting him to hold her safely, caused it hit to him in the head like a deadly Bludger. She really _was_ a miracle, the beginning of a new, lovely chapter in all their lives. He wanted to protect her, to care for her, to give her things and teach her things; he didn't think he had loved anything or anyone so deeply at that moment, even Sirius or Ron or Hermione.

Harry couldn't wipe his eyes or nose, because his arms were full of Phoebe. But for some reason, as he rocked her a little like Regulus did, moving his hand up and down slightly, her grip never slackening, he found that he didn't really care. No one else seemed to think his getting emotional over his baby sister was a big deal, so why should he? He held her a little closer and not only could he feel his own heart beating, he could feel hers, too. When he looked up at them, Harry could see that Sirius and Barbara were beaming at him.

Not long after that, Sirius took Barbara inside to get her lady parts healed, of course. She also wanted to wash her hair and change her clothes, because she said she probably looked and smelled disgusting.

"You look like a woman who's just brought a miracle into this world, Barbara, but if you feel bad about it, we can certainly get you in for a shower," Sirius said.

"How am I going to get inside if I don't have a magic gene inside my anymore?" she asked.

"They know you're a Muggle," said Sirius. "They can get you a bracelet to bypass all the anti-Muggle wards—or earrings, if you'd prefer."

"Earrings, definitely," she said with a smile.

Harry held Phoebe while Sirius helped Barbara walk inside. Now that he was holding her, he didn't want to let go. He had no idea how much time passed as he rocked her in his arms. Time seemed to stand still.

"Still think you'll never be a dad?" came a voice from behind him.

Harry's head spun around. Sirius had come back while Barbara was in the shower, and he hadn't even noticed.

"Well…maybe I will be _someday_ ," Harry said. "By the way, how did you know how to do that spell? To make her stop choking?"

"How do you think?" said Sirius with a laugh. "Your dad used it on you eleven years ago when you were choking on a grape. Then he told me it was a spell every parent should know. I guess he was right."

Harry was thinking then that he sure must have given his parents and Sirius a lot of trouble when he was a baby. But then, maybe that was a good thing. Sirius was going to be an experienced parent, while Barbara was probably as prepared for motherhood as she was for nuclear war.

"Dudley choked on a piece of candy when he was around five," said Harry, remembering. "Aunt Petunia didn't have a spell, but she flipped him upside down and held him by the ankles and shook him. It worked, though…what a shame."

"What do you think of her, then?" Sirius asked. His smile spread straight to his eyes; Harry didn't think that haunted look in them was ever going to come back now. Nothing, of course, could really cancel out his terrible childhood, or Harry's parents dying, or his wasted years in prison. But even though it was a year ago, more than a year, in fact, Harry still didn't forget what Sirius had said to him about those who were still with us and those who were not.

" _You could've been bitter…cruel…mean, unable to love or let anyone in…but you aren't. Why is that?"_

" _Because that sort of existence is very lonely, Harry," said Sirius, his eyes dripping with tears again. "I'm through with being lonely. You can never truly be free if you walk this world alone…You don't need to forget about the people who died—never. But you can still make room in your heart for those people who are still left here on Earth. No matter what they do to me, they can never take away that part of me, that part of me that can love."_

"She's perfect, Sirius," Harry told him, and that was the honest-to-God truth.

…

It was fun to pick out different outfits for Phoebe, too. Before they left the clinic, they had gotten Phoebe's measurements and bought a huge stock of baby clothes. It seemed that Barbara enjoyed shopping for her new baby even more than she enjoyed shopping for herself. She liked to dress Phoebe in frilly dresses in pastel Easter egg colors, or frilly shirts with little flowered leggings, or little ballerina outfits, with ribbons and bows to match. She even bought little ballerina slippers for her. Harry couldn't see why, since Phoebe wouldn't be walking for a long time.

Sirius was completely the opposite. He was the one who bought Phoebe the onesies with the funny sayings on them and baby versions of T-shirts (including a tuxedo shirt), jeans and even a pair of overalls. He found a onesie with paw prints on it that read "Newest Member of the Pack," which he simply had to buy, for obvious reasons. Not only that, but he got her a onesie that said "#1 Dad" on it, with an arrow, and a matching T-shirt for himself that read "#1 Baby," with another arrow, so if they stood next to each other, they would match (Regulus said this was "extremely tacky"). He also bought her a black knit hat with puppy ears. Sirius was looking for the weirdest, most offensive onesie he could find, just so she could wear it to #12 Grimmauld Place and shock all the relatives, but Regulus wouldn't allow it, especially when Sirius actually found one that read "I can't believe this is my fucking family." The swear word, right on the front! Barbara finally picked one that read "I was running out of womb." It seemed fitting, considering she came early.

Harry ended up buying onesies for Phoebe, too. He bought "My Big Brother Loves Me," of course, then one that said "My brother has a wand and he's not afraid to use it," and, going along with Sirius's matching T-shirt idea, he got one that read "Big Brother" for him and "Little Sister" for Phoebe. Harry's favorite, though, was one that read "Eat, Sleep, Play Quidditch," and he wanted to dress her in it a lot.

"I'm also going to check out the bookstore at school," he promised. "There's sure to be a lot of Gryffindor apparel there for babies."

"Got to start sending the right messages," Sirius agreed. Luckily, he found a Gryffindor onesie right there in the store, and he decided that would shock and horrify his relatives, certainly more than a onesie with a curse word ever would.

When Phoebe finally had enough outfits to last for now until eternity (or until she grew out of them), they took the Floo home, and they brought Phoebe over to Gwen and Robert's apartment the very next day, Thursday morning. Gwen and Robert both cried while they held her. They both hugged Sirius, too. It was hard to believe how strict Robert had once been with Sirius. Maybe they had bonded somehow, both of them being fathers. Sirius seemed to understand Robert's protectiveness of Barbara, because he felt the same way about Phoebe. That was something they had in common.

Thursday afternoon, though, was when they took her to #12 Grimmauld Place, to have her welcoming ceremony. She would be meeting every remaining member of the Black family; Harry's friends would be there, too. Hermione said she was dying to meet Phoebe. Sirius dressed his little girl in her Gryffindor outfit, and off they went.

Regulus turned off the anti-Muggle wards on #12 Grimmauld Place to allow access to Barbara, and they got there via the Floo (Sirius held onto Phoebe, because neither Barbara nor Harry thought they'd be able to keep her safe in the fire travel). Harry got the feeling some of the Black relatives weren't so pleased with this, but what could they do? If there was no Barbara, there was no Phoebe, either.

Aunt Lucretia, of course, was the first to come running down into the basement kitchen to greet them.

"Oh, Merlin's name!" she cried. Tears were already streaming down her cheeks. She grabbed Phoebe out of Sirius's arms and cuddled her tightly. "Phoebe Black II! Oh, you've got to see the Black Family Tree, Sirius, you've just _got_ to! It's amazing!"

Barbara, Sirius and Harry followed Aunt Lucretia and baby Phoebe up into the drawing room. They walked over to the tapestry, where Harry examined the bottom. Sure enough, connected to the name _Sirius Black III_ was the name _Barbara Raffelovich_. And, right under the two names, was _Phoebe Black II_. It was wonderful! Phoebe's sonogram photo was still there, too.

"It's hard to believe that the little tiny thing in that photo is the baby I'm holding right now," Aunt Lucretia said tearfully, kissing Phoebe's hair. She didn't seem to care that Phoebe was dressed in Gryffindor garb. Looking closely at the photo, Harry could see that she looked like a human baby by then. He could make out her head and body. After all, he'd been there when that sonogram was recorded. Now he could say he'd been there for her birth, too.

Not long after that, Regulus strode up to meet them.

"Hello, Black family members," said Regulus with a smile. He was wearing heavy dark green robes, and his wand was sticking out of one pocket. Kreacher was trailing behind him, carrying a tray full of punch and cookies. "How's my little niece doing?"

"Very well, thank you, Reg," said Sirius proudly. Phoebe was sleeping, thank goodness, because when she wasn't sleeping, she was usually crying. Last night she had cried a whole lot, and Sirius and Barbara had to get up repeatedly during the night to feed and/or change her. The screaming hadn't kept Harry awake, though, because Sirius gave him the Draught of Living Death. This sounded grim, but it wasn't; after eight hours, the drinker would wake up again, fully rested.

"Wait a minute…what's that smell?" said Harry, but his question was answered when he saw that Phoebe was beginning to stir.

"I believe we've got a Code Brown situation," said Sirius.

"Oh, can you do it this time, Siri?" Barbara said weakly. "It just smells so bad."

"Well, sure," said Sirius, taking Phoebe over to the couch, "but you're going to have to do it eventually, you know."

Once Phoebe was all changed, Holly rang the bell, and they let her in. To Harry's surprise, she was wearing her "The REAL Boss" T-shirt. It fit fine in the stomach area, but it was extremely tight in the chest.

"Where'd you get that?" said Harry, about to point, but then thinking better of it.

"Barbara gave it to me," Holly replied with a grin. "I'm going to give the other one to Reg. It'll be an excellent joke."

Harry was glad to see that Ron and Hermione arrived next; Hermione got there by the Knight Bus, and Ron came by the Floo. They both walked over to the Black family tree where Regulus, Holly, Kreacher, Sirius, Aunt Lucretia, Harry, Barbara and Phoebe were all waiting.

"Oh my God," said Hermione, her chocolate-brown eyes filling with tears. "I can't believe I finally get to meet you, Phoebe! You guys, she's beautiful!"

"Cute," Ron agreed, poking her gently in the head.

Next to arrive, unfortunately, were the Malfoys. Lucius and Draco only came because of Narcissa, but they came nonetheless. Draco glared at Harry, and Harry glared right back.

"Are your cousins here?" Draco asked Holly with a scowl.

"Why would they be?" she replied primly.

"I'm just curious," Draco said angrily.

Ron nudged Harry, and they both tried to stifle their laughter. They both knew Draco had a serious crush on Astoria, Holly's younger cousin.

" _Mal_ -foy," Harry and Ron chanted together, "how's As- _tor_ -ia?"

Draco's normally pale face was red, and Harry and Ron cracked up laughing.

"Wait till my father hears about this, Potter!" Draco shouted, bristling.

"Why?" Ron teased. "Has he already arranged your marriage to her?"

"FATHER!" Draco bellowed.

"What?" snapped Lucius Malfoy, turning around. He had been in conversation with his wife.

"They're teasing me!" Draco told him, pointing. Lucius gave him a cold look that clearly read, _Deal with it_ , but Narcissa seemed more concerned.

"Harry! Ron! What are you doing to my baby boy?" she demanded. Harry saw Draco put his burning face in his hands. Ron looked like Christmas had come early.

"Just some cheerful banter between friends," he said, nudging Harry again.

"It's fine, Mother," Draco mumbled. If there was one thing worse than Lucius telling him to deal with Harry and Ron on his own, it was Narcissa babying him. Harry didn't feel they were being so horrible to Draco, anyway. After all, this was the kid who had made fun of him and Hermione last year; "Potty and the Mudblood" wasn't going to fade from Harry's head in a hurry. Only when Sirius had washed out their mouths with soap and taken points from Slytherin had they shut up.

At the back of his mind, though, even though Ron seemed to enjoy Narcissa embarrassing Draco and making things even worse, it always made Harry feel kind of…well, he didn't know what he felt, but he knew somehow that he wouldn't care how much his mother embarrassed him if she were alive. It wouldn't matter if, when he dressed in his tuxedo and went to Sirius's wedding, she had said something embarrassing like, "Our little caterpillar has become a butterfly!" It would just be enough that she was there—as a bridesmaid, maybe, with Harry's father as Sirius's best man. In other words, Draco's mother might embarrass him, but at least he had one at all, and Harry could tell she loved him very much.

"Hello…" said Ron, waving his hand in Harry's face. "Earth to Harry!"

"You're a really good mother, Lady Malfoy, and Draco is lucky to have you," Harry told Narcissa. Draco's mouth dropped open, but Narcissa smiled.

Speaking of mothers, that was when Andromeda arrived, with Ted and Nymphadora following close behind. She was grinning.

"So this is the newest member of the House of Black, huh?" she said. "Well, I think she's absolutely great."

"Want to hold her?" said Aunt Lucretia, cradling Phoebe like she was her own baby.

"If it's okay with Barbara," Andromeda replied mildly.

"Of course," Barbara told her, beaming, all her teeth showing. Harry knew she liked Andromeda, but then again, how could you not? Andromeda was an expert at holding babies, of course. They passed Phoebe around again, so Andromeda's husband and daughter could hold her as well. Even Narcissa held her for a minute. It was amazing how women who normally antagonized each other could get along if there was a baby involved. Andromeda and Narcissa were talking normally, and Harry saw how happy Andromeda looked. Maybe now that Bellatrix was out of the picture, the two of them could be friends, or at least be civil.

"I really like her," said Holly, bouncing Phoebe in her arms. "I'll babysit any time you want."

Harry thought Sirius would make some crack about Phoebe needing an aunt, but he didn't. Instead, he smiled.

"I just might have to take you up on that offer," he said.

Cassiopeia showed up next. Harry could tell she still didn't completely approve of who the baby had for a mother, but she couldn't admit it.

"Well, she certainly does look like you, Sirius," she said finally.

"I'm glad you're becoming more open-minded about it all," Andromeda told her kindly. "It doesn't matter that Phoebe's a half-blood."

"No, because we've still got a chance at a pureblood heir… _haven't_ we?" said Cassiopeia, elbowing Regulus and making him turn tomato-red. Holly giggled.

"Now, Cassiopeia," Regulus began, looking beyond humiliated, but she just barreled on.

"I'm very pleased you chose a pureblood to become Lady Black," she told Regulus, and then she turned to Holly and addressed her. "But you mustn't wait, Miss Greengrass. You're not going to be young forever."

"I know what you're thinking, and I'm only eighteen," Holly said. "I have some time."

"What are you waiting for?" Cassiopeia demanded.

"Hell to freeze over?" Holly said snarkily.

"You might as well give it up, Holly, I don't think this house is getting any colder," Sirius quipped, and Holly laughed. Harry was surprised Cassiopeia didn't yell at Holly to watch her mouth or anything, but then he realized she was probably her only chance at a pureblood grandchild, and the last thing she wanted was to let her get away.

"Come on, guys," said Andromeda. "Holly's right, she's still young. I mean, Barbara had a baby, and she's…how old are you now, Barbara?"

"Twenty-five," Barbara replied.

"So there you are," said Sirius, finally managing to get Cassiopeia to shut up. When she went over to talk with Narcissa and Lucius, the rest of them began talking amongst themselves. Regulus was holding Phoebe.

"Remember when I was six, and I asked you where babies come from, Aunt Lucretia?" he said, looking down at his niece, then looking up again and grinning a little.

"Why, no, I don't remember that at all," Aunt Lucretia said, looking surprised. "What did I say?"

"If I recall correctly," said Regulus, "you told me the father plants a magical seed in the mother's beautiful flower garden, and the baby slowly grows from their love. For the longest time I thought babies grew on trees."

"I can beat that," said Barbara. "Bubbe Goldberg used to tell me that every month I wasn't pregnant, my poor empty womb could cry red tears."

Aunt Lucretia looked even more shocked at that, but Holly, Andromeda and Barbara all burst into hysterical laughter. Even Hermione smiled a little.

" _Red_ tears?" Harry whispered to Ron in confusion. Ron just shrugged, looking baffled.

Barbara said not long after that she would cook lunch for everyone, and Regulus said she would do no such thing, but she said she insisted, she _liked_ cooking, it would relax her after childbirth, and the rest of the Black family did seem eager to enjoy her cooking again. So while Barbara cooked lunch, Harry sat down on the sofa, Ron and Hermione on either side of him, while Sirius held Phoebe, cradled against his shoulder, one hand on her back, the other on her bottom. Ron said he liked her Gryffindor outfit.

"Thank you," said Sirius. "Harry and I picked it out…Well…"

Phoebe was starting to stir again, but she didn't stink.

"I reckon she's hungry," Sirius said thoughtfully. "Barbara's busy in the kitchen, so I'll feed her one of the bottles I brought."

Sirius was digging around in his enchanted pockets when Hermione said, "If you don't mind, Sirius…could I feed her, maybe?"

"Well—sure," Sirius said in mild surprise. He set Phoebe in Hermione's arms and showed her the right way to hold the baby, then retrieved a bottle from his robes. After warming the milk up slightly with his wand, he handed the bottle to Hermione. For a little while he watched, then Regulus called him over to talk, so he waved and left them to it.

"I can't believe one of us actually _has_ one of these," Hermione said softly as Phoebe drank the milk contentedly.

"Regulus said she was a miracle," said Harry, looking over at Regulus talking to Sirius.

"She is," Hermione agreed. "And she's your baby, too, Harry, your very own baby sister. You're lucky to have her."

"I know," said Harry, brushing a lock of black hair out of her shut eyes, and all three of them stared down at her in peaceful silence, just observing their little miracle.


	34. Remadora

That next day, Friday, Harry had an appointment with Dr. Grant, his pediatrician. They had to wait for some time. All of the magazines were out of date, and most of them were women's magazines, anyway; Harry figured it was because a lot of mothers waited in here while their kids got checkups. Sirius was reading a 1989 issue of _Shape_ , looking interested, and Harry, curious, was just about to open _Cosmopolitan_ when he got called for his appointment. The first thing they did, of course, was discuss Phoebe.

"I heard your wife was in labor on Wednesday, Mr. Black," said Dr. Grant as Harry and Sirius plopped themselves into chairs. "I do hope everything turned out all right."

"It did," said Harry. "Her name's Phoebe."

"Lovely." Dr. Grant smiled. "You know, if you like, I could be her pediatrician, too. I could be your family doctor, in fact."

 _Family doctor_. Harry smiled. They really were a family.

"Even a two-day-old baby?" Sirius asked her.

"Yes," Dr. Grant replied, nodding. "I work with kids of all ages, from newborns to kids in their late teens. Some of them still see me when they become adults, in fact. But I'd be glad to be Phoebe's pediatrician. I can answer any questions you have about baby care, having five children of my own."

"Five?" said Harry, surprised.

"Yes," she said. "My oldest and youngest are both boys, and in the middle, I have a set of identical triplet girls."

"Sounds like a handful," said Sirius with a laugh.

"If I had to choose five kids all over again, I'd take the ones I've got," she replied sincerely.

"Actually, I did have a question," Harry told her. "Sort of about babies."

This earned Harry an eyebrow raise from Sirius, but Dr. Grant said, "Well, if you're anything like my brood, you've got a lot of questions. What is it?"

"When Barbara had the baby, she said she couldn't control her pushing," Harry told her. "And I always thought it took a lot of effort."

"It's different for not just every woman, Harry, but every pregnancy," Dr. Grant explained. "Babies are going to come out no matter what, and that's why a lot of women say they have an irresistible urge. Did Barbara's baby come quickly?"

"Yes," said Harry. "We didn't even make it to the birthing clinic. She had the baby right there on the bus!"

"Goodness gracious," said Dr. Grant. "Well, Barbara probably felt a very strong urge, then. She was just doing what her body told her, and that's how birth is supposed to happen. Anyway…" She smiled. "We should start with your appointment, shouldn't we?"

So that was what they did. Dr. Grant reported that Harry was now within the healthy range of weight for his height. It was probably the heavy Hogwarts food, Harry was thinking.

"You've still got some wiggle room, of course, especially since you're still on the low end of the range, but don't get overweight, because that's bad for your health, too," Dr. Grant told Harry.

"I know," said Harry, remembering fat Dudley. "How much taller am I, though?"

"About an inch," she said.

"Well, that's something," Sirius said hopefully, which was what Hermione had said when Harry tried to do a Hover Charm on his pen last year and it had only wiggled a little. That was how disappointed Harry was now, after learning that he was still short. He remembered asking Sirius last summer which of his parents was a goblin.

The rest of the doctor's appointment went pretty much par for the course, until they got to the end, where Dr. Grant apparently wanted to talk about something else she hadn't last time. That is, she wanted to know if Harry wanted to talk about it, and he didn't. Not really, anyway.

"You're a perfectly normal twelve-year-old, Harry," she said. "Height, weight, it all seems to be in order. You've improved tremendously since last year—whatever school you went to, they're taking good care of you. Now, is there anything else you'd like to talk about?"

"Like what?"

"Well, your body's changing, isn't it?" she said, adjusting her glasses. "Do you have any questions?"

"Oh…well, not really, I guess," Harry told her with a shrug.

"In that case, if you ever do have any questions, I'm going to give you this little booklet," Dr. Grant replied, and she reached for some papers on her desk. Harry looked, and she was holding a blue booklet entitled _Growing Up 'N' Stuff: Boys' Edition_. Right next to it was the girls' edition, in pink.

"I'll read it as soon as I can," Harry told her, although it was just to be polite. As he stuck it in his pocket, he knew he would never read it as long as he lived.

…

Several days later, Harry and Sirius, while Barbara rested, brought Phoebe to visit Remus. He had been to her christening the other day, of course, but that didn't mean they couldn't visit again. Harry was glad they were able to Apparate, although now they could do it even with Barbara there. Sirius walked up to the front door of Crescent Cottage and tapped his wand to the keyhole, unlocking the door.

"Are you sure you're supposed to do that?" Harry asked, cuddling Phoebe in his arms. You could tell Sirius had dressed her today, because she was wearing a violently yellow onesie that read, "Newest member of the pack," with paw prints all along the chest.

"Yes," said Sirius confidently. "Remus said I could visit anytime."

Crescent Cottage was small, but cozy as anything. It was about the size of the last flat Sirius, Harry and Barbara had all inhabited, and it had one floor. When they opened the door, they entered the foyer, which was dark, but there was light coming from the living room. Also coming from the living room were groaning noises, which didn't make sense, because the full moon had been about two weeks ago. Around this time of the month, Remus should have been at his best. Sirius looked puzzled, sniffing at the air the way he did when he smelled something familiar.

" _That's_ not Moony's scent," he said, which would have sounded weird to anyone who didn't know he had a dog for his Animagus form. "I mean, it is, but he's sure not alone."

"I don't know," said Harry. "I don't smell anything."

"Well, that's because you don't have a dog's sense of smell," Sirius told him. "But I _know_ that smell from somewhere, I just can't place it. Especially because her scent is masked with just about a whole bottle of perfume."

"Her? It's a _her?"_

"Oh, it's female, all right," said Sirius suspiciously. They were both keeping their voices down, so Remus and his lady friend wouldn't hear them. "The pheromones are very strong as well, so I think we should leave. I can't believe I'm saying this, but he's probably…well, I don't know if you know what a booty call is…"

"Yeah," said Harry, thinking of when he saw it on _Love and Lust_. He hadn't seen the actual booty, but he'd learned what the term meant. "Maybe we _should_ leave."

"I just feel like I know who it _is_ , that's all," said Sirius, clearly agonized. "If he's having sex with someone I know, as his best friend, don't I get details?"

"Regulus says a gentleman doesn't kiss and tell."

"Regulus also says Holly's breasts are like soft, heavenly gifts from God," said Sirius. "Get real."

That was when they heard a crash from the living room, and a familiar female voice crying out, "Oh my God! I'm _so_ sorry!"

Sirius's face lost its color. He didn't often get angry, but when he did, it was like Mount Vesuvius.

"MOONY!" he roared, thundering into the living room. It was Tonks! She let out a bloodcurdling scream, Remus shouted, "Sirius, what on Earth—?!" and Phoebe woke up and started wailing like a siren. Harry ran into the living room after his godfather.

"Sirius!" Tonks cried. "This isn't what it looks like!"

"IT'S _EXACTLY_ WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE!" Sirius shouted, and Harry agreed. Luckily, they hadn't been actually having sex, but it looked like they might have reached that point if Sirius hadn't arrived. Tonks was only wearing tight jeans, a bra, and one sock; Remus was just wearing some old sweatpants, no shirt to speak of. His lamp was shattered on the ground.

"Sirius, honestly, don't you ever knock?" Remus demanded.

"You said I could come in whenever I wanted!" Sirius shot back. "But I guess that rule doesn't apply when you're feeling up my goddamn cousin! What the hell's wrong with you?!"

"I'm nineteen, Sirius! I'm not a child!" Tonks snapped, as Harry covered up Phoebe's ears, not wanting her to hear the cursing.

"That's enough out of you!" Sirius said furiously, pointing to Tonks. "I can't believe this! Moony is almost twice your age!"

"Holly Greengrass is having sex with someone who's almost twice her age, and I don't see you getting on _her_ case!" Tonks yelled.

"Just because they did it once doesn't mean they'll do it again!" Sirius told her. "And that's not the point! Holly isn't my cousin. You are."

"What's the difference? I'm not making out with _you_."

"You're making out with Remus, and neither of you told me a single thing!"

"Wow," said Harry, trying to make a joke out of it. "If he's like this with his adult cousin, imagine how he'll be with his young teenage daughter."

"Don't _talk_ about it!" Sirius hollered at the top of his lungs. Phoebe cried even louder, and he took her out of Harry's arms, holding his daughter against his shoulder, gently moving her up and down. Eventually the cries quieted into little whimpers, and he held her close to his heart, so she could feel the comfort of his heartbeat.

"You have no say in who I date, Sirius, so you might as well give it up," Tonks said angrily, her cheeks pink. When her much older cousin spoke again, his voice was soft.

"We're going now," Sirius said with a last glare at Remus and Tonks. With his back straight and his nose in the air, he swept out of the living room, Harry slowly bringing up the rear. When they left the house, Sirius didn't grab Harry's arm and Disapparate, he just kept walking. Harry figured he needed to let out some steam.

"I'm sorry, Sirius," Harry said finally, as they trudged through the beautiful Yorkshire countryside. The leaves on the trees were turning; they were brilliant shades of red, gold and orange, but for some reason it made Harry feel incredibly sad.

"Sorry? For what?" Sirius grumbled.

"For reminding you that Phoebe will be a teenager someday."

"Don't apologize," Sirius said with a shrug, patting Phoebe's back. "I guess I'll have to deal with it sooner or later."

"Do you really worry about it that much?" Harry asked.

"Parents are _always_ worrying about their kids," Sirius said, glancing at Harry, then looking forward again. "Phoebe is so beautiful and perfect, and I just want to keep her that way, you know? Sometimes I feel like she's as fragile as that lamp Tonks knocked over."

They walked along in silence for a bit.

"And it's like that for you, too, Harry," Sirius added abruptly. "In some ways, I know it'll be great watching you grow up and being a part of it, like I always wanted. But at the same time…well, it kind of hurts sometimes, knowing you're not James and Lily's little boy anymore. You're not _my_ little boy anymore."

"I'll always be your godson, though," Harry told him, hoping it would help. "No matter how old I get."

"I know," said Sirius, and he gave Harry a sad sort of smile.

"But it doesn't make a lot of sense," Harry told him. "Why are you so concerned? I mean, I'm going with Hermione, and you aren't worried about _us_ being alone together."

"I wasn't aware I had reason to be."

"You don't," Harry told him quickly. "But I'm talking about Phoebe here."

"Well, there are just so many men out there who treat women like garbage, Harry, and with my luck, little Pheebs will probably get involved with one of them," Sirius despaired, cuddling the sleeping baby and watching as her tiny fingers curled around a lock of his long hair in her sleep. "And yet, when I try to warn her, she won't listen to me, and he'll break her heart or worse, and I won't be able to do anything but sit there and watch my daughter cry."

"Worse?" said Harry. "Like what? Kill her? Cheat on her? Take her—"

"Don't _talk_ about it!" Sirius nearly shouted again, but Phoebe stirred slightly, so he had to quiet down. "I don't even want to _think_ about things like that, Harry. Phoebe becoming a teenager and dating is something I am just not ready for."

"Well, who knows?" Harry tried to smile. "Maybe she'll end up with a nice guy like you."

"I am the last type of guy I want her to get involved with, Harry," Sirius said darkly. "Motorcycle-driving, leather-jacket-wearing, cigarette-smoking, love-em-and-leave-em womanizers? Yeah, right. I wouldn't let either of them in the house! I'd rather she get involved with someone like James, not me."

" _My_ dad?" said Harry. "Wasn't he supposed to be a mischief-maker too?"

"Yeah, but James would do anything for Lily, absolutely anything, and he was very loyal to her," Sirius explained. "If she told him to go to class wearing his clothes backwards, he would have, but she never did, because she loved him just as much as he loved her. James was a lot of things, but he sure wasn't flaky. He was always there when we needed him."

"You're always there when I need you, too, Sirius," Harry reminded him. "I'm glad you let me move in with you."

" _Let_ you! I need you too, you know."

Harry felt a smile spread across his face; it wasn't often people told him he was needed in that way. Sure, people told him they needed him as their Savior and the one to bring peace to the Wizarding community. But how many people, exactly, needed him as not a celebrity, but as a _person?_ Not a lot, it seemed.

"Thanks," he told his godfather. "But I just want you to know…I've learned so much from talking to you and doing stuff with you and even just _watching_ you. When I'm living with you, it's…it's almost like I've got my dad back."

Oh, boy, was _that_ ever the wrong thing to say. Sirius looked like he was blinking back tears.

"Almost," he said, and his voice was shaky. "Almost, Harry. It just…it felt so unreal back then. It was sort of like…our heads knew someone was after us, knew someone wanted to kill us, even, but our hearts didn't believe it. They couldn't. It just seemed like if we loved each other enough…if we stayed strong enough…focused on other, happier things…nothing could possibly…it would never really…but then one day…" It seemed he couldn't finish any sentence he tried.

"Sirius…!" Harry heard his own voice wavering now, and suddenly he felt like he had just been demoted from an almost-teenager to a small child. The three of them paused to sit under a bright-orange tree. Harry leaned his head on Sirius's shoulder, and Sirius put one arm around him, holding Phoebe in the crook of the other. Harry just kept swallowing, telling himself he wouldn't cry.

"I guess neither of us feel very good about what happened in there, do we?" said Sirius sullenly, running his hands through Harry's hair. Not only had he not styled it, but he hadn't even washed it, so it was probably all greasy. Sirius didn't seem to care, though.

"No," said Harry, leaning into Sirius. "We don't. I just want to go home."

…

Dinner that night was a rather sullen affair. Barbara cooked a delicious dinner, as usual, but Sirius had them all eat problems, complaining about how he couldn't _believe_ his own best friend had betrayed him like that, and how on Earth could he let his little cousin get away with such irresponsible behavior, and they were probably having sex behind his back and Andromeda and Ted probably knew nothing of it and Tonks would get pregnant and by the time Barbara interrupted him, he already had Tonks and Remus eloping to get married in front of the justice of the peace.

"You're getting out of hand, Siri," she said gently. "I'm sure Andromeda and Ted _do_ know—they were just afraid of your reaction. And they were right, weren't they?"

"Oh. So my _other_ cousin betrayed me. That's real comforting."

"Listen, I have other concerns, anyway." Barbara sighed as she wound a forkful of spaghetti. "I'm afraid Phoebe's poop was green earlier today, I've been meaning to tell you. Doesn't that mean she's stressed or something?"

"No, I don't think so," Sirius told her, stabbing a meatball and stuffing it whole into his mouth. "Green is normal. It probably means she digested a lot of milk in a short period of time."

"She drinks until she passes out," said Barbara with a smirk. "Just like her Daddy used to…"

Harry groaned in disgust. Why did they have to talk about this at the _table_ , of all places? Was this what happened when you became a parent? You had no problem discussing revolting bodily functions as if you were politely commenting on the weather?

"You look terribly uncomfortable, Harry," said Sirius, swallowing his meatball.

"Why can't you cut it up into little slices like Regulus does?" Harry grouched.

"Oh, yeah, like I haven't been encouraged to be like Regulus my whole life," Sirius said, rolling his eyes and waving his fork at Harry. "You'd better get packing, kid. Tomorrow's the thirty-first."

"I know," Harry told him irritably, although he was glad it was. Sirius and Barbara always talked about gross things at the table now, and he was actually looking forward to sitting at the Gryffindor table again where he didn't have to listen to discussions about how much Barbara's breasts were suffering and how they could supplement with formula, not to mention the debates over baby poop and baby barf and diaper rash and heaven knows what else. One thing was for certain: now that Harry had heard about the possibility of baby poop being yellow, mustard would never touch his lips again.

…

Harry called both Ron and Hermione that night. He decided to ask them to come to the house tomorrow evening, not just because it was their last day before school started up again, but also because Sirius and Barbara probably wouldn't discuss gross things if Harry's friends were there. Harry also planned on inviting Regulus, which meant he'd have to invite Holly, too. Not that he could ever look at _her_ the same way again, of course, and according to Sirius, neither could Regulus. Harry called Ron first.

"Hey, Harry," said Ron. "What's up?"

"I'm inviting both of you to dinner tomorrow," Harry told him. "Sort of like a Night-Before-Hogwarts party. Or a little get-together, at least."

"Sounds good," Ron told him.

"Yeah, come around seven or so."

Ron wasn't one for long phone conversations, although he was getting the hang of it. Hermione was the next person to be invited.

"Hi, Harry!" she said. "I was just thinking about you."

"I was just thinking about _you_ ," Harry told her. "Do you want to come to dinner tomorrow? It's sort of a party for the end of the summer. Like a going-away party, for us. Ron is coming too, and so are Regulus and Holly."

"What time?"

"Seven."

"I'll be there," said Hermione. "Have a good night, Harry."

"You too," he told her, and hung up. Then he got out his trunk and started packing for Hogwarts, only two days from now.


	35. The Night Before Hogwarts

True to his word, Harry sort of threw a mini-party on August 31. Barbara dressed Phoebe in a onesie that read "I Get My Attitude From Aunt Andy," a gift from Andromeda, of course. He invited Ron and Hermione, and Regulus and Holly. Regulus brought Kreacher along with him. Sirius didn't seem to approve of this, but it would be a social _faux pas_ to turn away an uninvited guest, even one of the house-elf variety, and Harry figured Regulus knew that.

They decided not to eat at the table, and instead of cooking, they ordered Chinese food. Harry wasn't surprised that Regulus was an expert with the chopsticks. After all, he seemed to be one of those people who was good at everything. Hermione had eaten Chinese before, she said, and didn't have trouble with them. Sirius, Holly, and Ron, purebloods as they were, found themselves completely out of the loop; Sirius picked up chopsticks quickly, but Holly and Ron didn't.

Harry hadn't really eaten Chinese too much before; when he got takeout with Sirius before Barbara and Regulus entered the picture, they tended to prefer pizza or Italian, and the few times they had eaten Chinese, they'd stuck with forks. But Harry tried to pick it up, and he liked how Hermione showed him how to use the chopsticks, because it involved a lot of touching of their hands.

Regulus was wearing slacks, a white button-down and his favorite green-and-silver tie; his hair was gelled, and he smelled of Clive Christian No.1. Holly's medium-length brown hair was in a French braid and she was wearing her "The REAL Boss" T-shirt and very tight jeans. Ron couldn't stop staring, even when Harry elbowed him.

"Honestly, Sirius," said Regulus, poking at the sofa. "You have the entire Black family fortune to yourself. Did you _really_ need to get half your furniture at a secondhand store?"

"It's called being frugal, Reg, and it's not a crime," Sirius said loftily.

"You should hear him complain about the phone bill," Harry put in, grinning, and imitated Sirius being a cheapskate. " _The phone bill was astronomically high this month! Unless one of us starts crapping money, you'd better stop talking on it so much!"_

"Very funny," said Sirius, but he actually was laughing. It hadn't seemed so funny at the time when Sirius took the phone out of Harry's room back at the flat, but they could laugh about it now.

Harry, Ron and Hermione were seated on the floor around the coffee table, Harry sandwiched between the two of them, as usual. Holly was sitting on one end of the couch, Sirius on the other, with Barbara and Regulus in between. Kreacher crawled into Regulus's lap like a child, bringing him some applesauce, which Regulus had probably been eating since he was a year old.

"Anyway, I've been meaning to ask you, Holly," said Regulus. "What have you decided about being store manager for Store #9?"

Harry and Sirius exchanged glances. So technically, Regulus _had_ been "interviewing" his store manager that night.

"Actually, I'd rather do something else," she said. "I mean, I'd still like to work for Reggie's Pizza Empire, but not as a store manager."

"What, then?" said Regulus, raising one eyebrow. "Operations manager, maybe?"

"No," Holly replied. "I'd like to be considered for Head of Advertising."

"Well…sure!" Regulus smiled and took a spoonful of applesauce. "I'd like that a lot. Right now, I'm pretty much Head of Advertising, and with everything else going on, appointing you to that job would take one less responsibility off my plate."

"I'm sure I can come up with some great ideas to market to the Wizarding community," Holly said brightly.

Harry, Ron and Hermione sighed collectively. They didn't want to be talking business all night. But Harry couldn't help but notice the rather polite, even apathetic interactions between Holly and Regulus. It was as if they were casual acquaintances, not two people in a romantic relationship. What if it really did have something to do with the night Regulus spent with Holly? But that didn't make sense. Regulus had _enjoyed_ it. Shouldn't they be closer than ever?

Regulus had actually seemed stretched thin lately, so Harry asked him what was going on with the Pepe family.

"Bad business, Harry," Regulus answered, his expression darkening. "Very bad business. It used to be about simply destroying me financially, but now I'm starting to think Papa Pepe actually wants me dead."

"Oh, no, Master Regulus!" Kreacher croaked, grabbing onto Regulus's shirt. Regulus took one of Kreacher's hands in his own.

"What good will that do?" said Ron. "What's he supposed to do after you're dead, take over the business or something?"

"I suppose he's hoping the business will collapse in my absence, and he can return to being the most popular pizzeria in the British Isles," Regulus said with a shrug.

"That won't happen," Holly said firmly. "I won't let the flame die out."

"Master Regulus will stay with Kreacher," bleated the old house-elf, clinging tightly to Regulus. By now he was looking a little traumatized, just thinking about Regulus dying for real. "Master Regulus will behead Kreacher when he gets too old to carry a tea-tray and mount his head on the wall!"

"I won't do _that!"_ Regulus almost shouted.

From the look on Sirius's face, Harry could tell that however Sirius disliked Kreacher, he was still above beheading him and mounting his head on the wall.

"W-Why?" Kreacher had tears in his eyes now. "Is Kreacher not a good elf? Does Master Regulus not love Kreacher?"

"Of _course_ I love you, Kreacher," said Regulus adamantly, and Harry wondered how much patience, exactly, one person could possibly possess. "But it's inhumane to behead someone while he's still alive and mount his head on a wall. You know that, don't you?"

"No! Kreacher wants to join his ancestors on the wall!"

"What if you just got beheaded _after_ you had already died of natural causes?" Regulus offered. "Isn't that a good compromise?"

"Hmm…maybe," Kreacher said tremulously. "What would Mistress Walburga say?"

"She would probably say that I, as Head of the House of Black, know best," said Regulus, lifting his hand to show the Head of House signet ring. "Now, please, your death-day isn't coming anytime soon. Would you like some applesauce?"

"Yes, please." Kreacher reached out for the saucer and ate some of the applesauce he made all by himself, even though Harry thought Barbara's was better. After they were all done eating, they opened their fortune cookies, and read their fortunes off to each other, even though some of them were less of fortunes and more of the sort of thing you'd see on a motivational poster, perhaps one with a cat on it.

"The majority of the word 'can't' is 'can,'" Sirius read.

"Where fear hurts you, conquer it and defeat it," said Harry.

"You are broad-minded and socially active." Hermione seemed pleased with hers.

"You will be selected for a promotion because of your accomplishments," read Holly, one eyebrow raised. "Well, that's oddly specific."

"Mine says, 'Hone your competitive instincts,'" Regulus told her.

"Money will come to you when you are doing the right thing!" Barbara seemed shocked. "But…but I don't have a job…"

"Wow," said Ron. "You think yours was fitting, Holly—I got one that said, 'Warning: Do Not Eat Your Fortune.'"

"What about you, Kreacher?" Regulus asked kindly, handing a cookie to his house-elf.

"'Nothing in this world is accomplished without passion,'" read Kreacher, and then they all ate the cookies.

They spent some of the evening watching TV, and Harry lamented how he would never get to watch a Quidditch game on TV. They looked for _Love and Lust_ , which was always something entertaining, and that show seemed to always be on. Right now, they were showing a scene with two main characters kissing by the ocean.

"Oh, Brad," said the female, Lisa. "You have no idea how badly I've wanted you."

"Let's go further," Brad said back. "Further than we've ever gone before…"

"What _is_ this?" Regulus asked, looking disgusted.

"Smarmy soap operas," Hermione told him, and she and Harry laughed. Brad and Lisa were scantily clothed in bathing suits, and they rolled all around as they kissed in the sand. Regulus said he couldn't watch it anymore, because it was so stupid. Harry and Hermione tried to tell him that was the point, but he went into the kitchen anyway, Sirius following him with the empty food boxes. The rest of them watched the show for awhile until Harry headed to the kitchen to get more drinks. But he paused at the doorway as he saw Sirius and Regulus talking. Sirius was sitting on the table, drinking grape juice, and Regulus was in a chair with a glass of Perrier water.

"I think _you_ should join the Pizza Mafia, Reg," Sirius was telling him.

"That's illegal, Sirius," Regulus said back. "Besides, I couldn't…It would be too much like being a Death Eater again."

Harry covered his mouth to muffle a gasp. Regulus almost never talked about his Death Eater days. Sirius was quite silent, sipping his grape juice thoughtfully. Both of them looked troubled.

"I suppose you shouldn't do it, then," he said finally. "But that's all mustard under the bun now, Reg, you know that. None of us care one bit."

"Well, it's pretty annoying not to be able to show my left forearm to anyone." Regulus sighed and rubbed the area.

"It doesn't…hurt or anything, does it?" said Sirius, looking sideways at him.

"Not anymore," Regulus replied. "But it hurts whenever the Dark Lord wants to summon you, see. It hurt a whole lot when I was working my first two years in Chicago, until he went away, and I had to just tell everyone I got a dumb tattoo one night while I was drunk."

"Well, you weren't drunk, at least," said Sirius with a half-smile.

"Yeah…" Regulus gave another long sigh. "Imagine what Holly thought, though."

"Hey, Holly knows you were a Death Eater," said Sirius calmly. "I mean, our family's reputation isn't exactly the greatest, is it?"

"No," Regulus agreed, and set his chin in his hands. "But like I said, I really miss what Holly and I used to have."

Harry edged even closer to the doorway now, his empty glass in hand.

"Reg," Sirius sighed, "I can't help but think you should discuss this with her, not me."

"Fat lot of good that will do me!" Regulus snapped. "What am I going to do, ask for it back?"

"I don't know, but I'm not your sex therapist."

"My _what?"_

"Oh, it's this Muggle thing Barbara told me about, you go to a psychiatrist and tell him about your—"

"I know what it _is_ ," said Regulus. "I just find the concept obscene."

Sirius rolled his eyes.

"The two of you can go back to the way things were," he said. "Why is it such a big deal?"

"I told you. I _regret_ it, that's why."

"But…I mean, I thought you said she was…y'know, good."

"You can enjoy something physically without enjoying it emotionally, you know!" Regulus said hotly. "I feel kind of…dirty, you know? Whenever I think about it. Like something special's been taken away."

"Don't be silly," said Sirius.

"I was certain she was the right person," Regulus continued, as if his brother hadn't spoken. "So is it just that we did the deed at the wrong time?"

"Well, to be fair, I think she was planning to seduce you all along," Sirius told him. "I mean, why else would she have asked to make out directly after you told her you wanted to remain chaste until marriage? She wasn't wearing a bra? She just _happened_ to have condoms in the drawer in the coffee table? I mean, come on—"

"Maybe, at the time, I was too…aroused, shall we say, to care," Regulus said glumly. "I was just relieved she had them, to be honest. But now I'm thinking I wasn't ready. Like my body was, but my mind wasn't, if you know what I mean? I really _should_ have waited until marriage…But I was so…I just couldn't help myself, I guess. I'm so ashamed…"

Regulus buried his face in his hands, and Sirius shook his shoulder.

"Hey, don't worry," he said. "Beautiful, horny women aren't easy to resist, you know. But you're not going to feel any better, I don't think, unless you stop talking to me and start talking to her. She still thinks everything's fine."

"So what am I supposed to say?" Regulus asked. "I don't want to break up with her. If I tell her I regret our night together, she'll think I don't find her attractive. And then we probably _will_ break up."

"Don't tell her you regret it," Sirius told him. "Just tell her you weren't ready. Tell her—tell her you want to be emotionally closer before you can get so physically close. I think she can understand that. Just visit her at her flat in Hogsmeade tomorrow, and this time, don't act so rashly."

"Oh, you're a fine one to talk…"

Harry disappeared back into the living room then, because he didn't want to hear any more. He didn't even think of telling Ron and Hermione, because not only was he not supposed to overhear in the first place, but this was probably one of the most adult things he had heard in a long time, and he didn't want to discuss it with anybody.

…

After all the guests left, Harry sat on his bed up in his room, wondering about that conversation. All he could conclude was that he was very glad he wasn't in Regulus's shoes—and that maybe Perfect Regulus wasn't so perfect after all. Even he could make mistakes. Of course, Harry personally thought losing your virginity before you were ready was quite a smaller mistake than taking the Dark Mark and letting the Dark Lord use and abuse your beloved house-elf. So at least he was making progress.

Harry was just doing some last-minute packing for school tomorrow when he heard his door open, and there was Sirius.

"Great party, huh?" he said, flipping his hair out of his eyes, but it just fell back into place again, so he tucked it carelessly behind one ear. "Just wanted to see if you needed any help packing."

"No, thanks," said Harry. "Well…maybe. But first I wanted to ask, what was all that about Regulus regretting sleeping with Holly?"

"Oh…you heard that?" said Sirius, looking bemused. "Well, it's just Regulus being Regulus, that's all. I'm sure he'd be fine if he would just quit reading so much into it. It's bothering him a lot, because he feels guilty for giving in to her advances, but I don't think Holly ever thought much more about it."

"But _why_ does he feel so bad about it?" Harry asked. "Holly is someone he loves and trusts…It's not like she's some random floozy he picked up at a bar."

"Yeah, but he says he feels like something special has been taken away." Sirius rolled his eyes. "Honestly, sometimes I just don't know about him. He thinks losing his virginity is some big thing, but all Holly wanted was some naughty dirty fun, and she thought he wanted it, too."

"Well, maybe you're right," Harry told him, thinking. "Only she can convince him it's not a big deal."

"Let this be a 'teaching moment' for you, then," Sirius said, crossing his arms and leaning against the door frame. "When the time comes for you, don't expect fireworks and a waterfall and a violin. Because if you do…boy, will you be disappointed."

Sirius did end up helping Harry pack, and it went a lot faster with Sirius's magic, even though Sirius didn't care whether or not Harry used magic outside of school (in fact, he and Harry worked on the Summoning Charm while they packed). Harry got ready for bed, but before he went to sleep, Barbara entered the room with Phoebe. She was wearing a nightgown and bathrobe now, and her hair was in a messy bun on top of her head.

"Say goodnight, honey," she said, kissing Phoebe's soft head and setting her in Harry's arms.

"Goodnight, Phoebe," whispered Harry, cradling the beautiful baby against his shoulder the way Sirius did. "I love you."

Phoebe was less than a week old, but Harry still felt her relax in his arms. She made a little sighing noise, and he rocked her for a little before giving her back to Barbara. Her eyes were shut, and her little fists were involuntarily clenched, the way newborns' fists often were.

Sirius and Barbara both bade Harry goodnight as well, and left the room. But just as Harry had taken his glasses off and was settling into sleep, he sensed something stirring in the corner. It was dark in his room, but not the kind of dark where you can't see anything. It was a small figure, about the height of an average toddler.

"Who's there?" Harry hissed in the darkness, clapping his hands twice. The lights in his room turned back on.

It was what Harry recognized as a house-elf, but he didn't look like Kreacher. Maybe he would look like Kreacher when he got older, Harry thought, except his nose was long like a pencil instead of snout-like, and his eyes were a bright green, almost like Harry's, except they were huge. There was no white hair coming out of his bat ears, and instead of wearing a clean white smock made of fine silk, with a family crest, all this elf was wearing was a tattered pillowcase, with rips in it for the arm and leg holes.

"Dobby," said the elf. "Dobby the house-elf, sir."

"Were you hiding in my room all this time?" Harry asked him, making sure to keep his voice down.

"For thirty minutes, sir." Dobby, on the other hand, wasn't bothering to keep his voice down at all. "Dobby has come to warn Harry Potter."

"Warn me about what?" Harry rubbed his eyes and sat up in bed, then put his glasses back on. "I mean, I'm kind of trying to sleep here."

Dobby looked disappointed.

"Sorry," Harry added quickly. "I just have a big day tomorrow. I'm going back to school."

"No, no!" said Dobby, shaking his head so that his ears flapped. "Harry Potter must _not_ go back to school."

"What are you talking about?" Harry said. "Of course I'm going back."

"Is Harry Potter not happy here?"

"Well, sure, I'm happy here," Harry whispered. "But I'm happy at Hogwarts, too. And I don't think I can take another dinner with the parents of a newborn."

"Dobby remembers when his young Master was a newborn," said the elf. "Difficult baby, he was—"

Suddenly, Dobby ran over to the side of Harry's bed and started banging his head against it, letting out yelps of pain.

" _Bad_ Dobby! _Bad_ Dobby!" he said each time his head slammed into the wall.

"Stop, Dobby!" Harry said. "You're going to wake my family up! What are you doing?"

"Dobby spoke bad words about his Master," said Dobby by way of explanation. "So Dobby had to punish himself for it, sir."

Harry thought of Kreacher, and couldn't think of a time when Regulus had made him punish himself. True, he remembered Kreacher shattering a plate in his face, but that was to punish himself for allowing Sirius to father a half-blood child. Nobody had asked him to do it. Besides, Kreacher actually _wanted_ to be decapitated and mounted on a wall, which didn't say much for his sanity.

"I understand elves feel they have to do that," said Harry sympathetically. "But don't worry. It wasn't an insult what you just said, it was probably just a fact. Anyway, like I said, I have to go back to Hogwarts. What d'you want me to do, drop out?"

"For months there has been a plot, sir," Dobby explained. "To make terrible things happen at the school. Harry Potter must not risk his life…"

" _Who_ wants to make terrible things happen?"

Dobby edged over to the wall again.

"Okay, never mind!" said Harry. "Fine. Does it…does it have anything to do with… _You-Know-Who?"_

Dobby shook his head, but his eyes got wider, like he wanted to say something more. Harry didn't know what he was trying to say, though.

"I don't know who else besides him would be able to cause much of a fuss at Hogwarts," said Harry confidently. "Dobby, I'm going to go back to Hogwarts no matter what. And I need to go to bed."

"Give Dobby your word you will not go back to Hogwarts!"

"No!" Harry insisted. "Do I have to get my godfather?"

"Dobby will be back," said Dobby, and with a crack like a whip, he was gone. Harry clapped his hands twice and took off his glasses, falling back into bed again. Terrible things at Hogwarts? And if Voldemort wasn't planning them…who was? If Dumbledore was the only wizard Voldemort had ever feared, shouldn't a regular mortal Dark wizard fear him even more? Harry thought he was going to stay up all night worrying, but then he heard a familiar voice, a familiar song, drifting over from the nursery.

 _When I find myself in times of trouble_

 _Mother Mary comes to me_

 _Speaking words of wisdom_

 _Let it be_

 _And in my hour of darkness_

 _She is standing right in front of me_

 _Speaking words of wisdom_

 _Let it be_

It was Sirius, and Harry knew his godfather was singing Phoebe to sleep. Even now, he could picture Sirius sitting in their big blue rocking chair, holding her close to his heart and letting his clear, fine voice echo around the room, quite sure Harry could hear it, too.

 _Let it be, let it be_

 _Let it be, let it be_

 _There will be an answer_

 _Let it be_

Harry reached for the stuffed stag toy sitting on the pillow next to him, the one his father had given him eleven years ago. The song was as relaxing and soothing as always, just waiting to lure him into sleep, and as Sirius's real-life voice blended with faint memories of James's, Harry sank into sleep, ready for school the next day.


	36. Back to School

The next day was school. Harry woke up around noon, a little groggy, his trunk packed, everything set to go. The feast started sometime around seven, so Harry wouldn't have to get going until maybe fifteen till. He decided that was when he would take a shower, wear his uniform and do his hair. Sirius was already gone, since teachers had to be at the school for all of September 1 (most of them did their arriving on August 31, but Sirius could walk to Hogwarts and tunnel inside the school, so he could spend August 31 doing what he wanted).

Harry climbed out of bed and changed from his green pajamas into his oldest jeans and T-shirt. It was the last day he could savor not having to wear a uniform five days of the week. He went down to the kitchen, where Barbara was cooking Harry's last pre-Hogwarts meal—meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and apple pie. Phoebe was in her downstairs crib, fast asleep; she was wearing a ballerina-pink onesie with a skirt and hearts on the front, plus a bow on her head. She was also wearing a bib that read "I Love You a Latke."

"Isn't that the nicest thing?" Barbara said, pointing to the bib. "Bubbe Goldberg sent it to me."

"What's a latke?" Harry asked.

"Like hash browns, but with more starch," Barbara replied with a grin. "Haven't you heard that Hanukkah story—there wasn't enough oil to light the lamp because all of it was used for cooking latkes?"

"Now I have," Harry told her, and sat down at the table to wait.

…

Several hours later, though, things weren't looking up. Harry had already walked in on Barbara breastfeeding, and it had happened again today. There wasn't much to see, because Phoebe's head was in the way, but it still wasn't something he wanted to walk in on, especially when an unpleasant image of Sirius doing the same thing entered his head.

Only thirty minutes later, the milk wasn't sitting right with Phoebe, apparently, and Barbara seemed a lot more lost without Sirius than they had previously thought. She was simply howling up in her crib, and Barbara brought her downstairs. She burped up milk all over Barbara's shoulder, then cried some more.

"Do you know the Scouring Charm?" Barbara asked desperately. Both she and Phoebe were covered in baby barf.

"Huh-uh," said Harry, pinching his nose.

"How does Sirius _do_ this?" Barbara said to nobody in particular, holding her screaming daughter in her arms. "How am I supposed to know what to do next?! How am I supposed to know what she wants?!"

Sirius usually seemed to know what Phoebe wanted, but Barbara had gone blundering into motherhood unprepared.

"Hmm…" Harry frowned. "We don't need to call your mother, do we?"

"She's not allowed to come into Hogsmeade, Harry," Barbara reminded him. "You should know that."

"What about Andromeda?" said Harry on a sudden inspiration. If anyone knew what to do to calm a fussy baby, it would be Andromeda.

Within the hour, Andromeda had arrived at Harry's house via the Floo, calmed Phoebe and put her to sleep, sat Barbara down on the couch with a blanket, some hot chocolate and the TV, washed everyone's clothes, cleaned the house and put little decorative soaps in all their bathrooms. Then she sat on the couch next to Barbara and Harry.

"Andromeda," Barbara said tremulously, "will you stay with us forever?"

"I'm afraid I can't," Andromeda replied with a little laugh. "Eventually, I'll have to go home."

"I don't get it, though," Barbara told her, and she sounded sad. "Sirius is so good at parenting, and I stink at it. He's always telling me I'm doing a 'good job,' but he's just lying, I'll bet."

"Listen, Sirius has practice." Andromeda gestured to Harry. "Sirius was always naturally good with kids and animals, but we all are beginners once. He looked after Harry almost as much as James and Lily did. And even when he was around your age, Harry, he would sometimes help with my daughter—he'd feed her bottles sometimes and carry her around on his shoulders and tickle her."

Harry pictured thirteen-year-old Sirius, only one year older than he was now, sitting on a couch and feeding a bottle to a baby version of Tonks, the same way he did with his daughter now. Then it was a little easier to understand why he wasn't so keen on the idea of her sleeping with his best friend. After all, as with Harry, he didn't get to see her grow up.

"It's going to be hard for him, speaking of Tonks," said Harry conversationally. "I mean, now that she's sleeping with Remus—"

"She's _what?!"_ Andromeda cried.

"You—you didn't know?" asked Harry feebly.

"No, I didn't!" said Andromeda. "She didn't tell me! He's thirteen years older than she is! That's over a decade!"

"That's what Sirius said," Harry told her.

"Well, I'm going to have a talk with her about this!" Andromeda said furiously. "There is no way she is just running off with him like that at such a young age!"

"Andromeda, listen to what you're saying," said Harry with a smirk. " _You_ ran off with a guy. How can you be angry with Tonks for doing something you did when you were around her age?"

"Harry Potter," said Andromeda sardonically, "you don't understand one thing about parenting, do you?"

…

When Andromeda went home, Barbara put some treacle tart in the oven and instructed Harry to take it out after thirty-five minutes. Then she went shopping with Phoebe in her baby carriage. Harry wondered if, after all this exposure to shopping at such a young age, Phoebe would end up being as bad as Barbara.

After Harry took the treacle tart out of the oven he ate half of it in one sitting. Then, feeling a little heavy, he realized the food coma was setting in. So he headed to his bed and set an alarm for five in the afternoon. He would wake up then, get his shower and do his hair, and there would be plenty of time to reach the feast by seven.

Harry didn't remember falling asleep or having any dreams, but he didn't awaken until he felt Barbara shaking him.

"Wake up, Harry!" she was saying over and over again. Phoebe was crying.

"W-What?" said Harry groggily, sitting up. Why was it that after you took a nap, you expected to feel energized, when really you felt like you were just rising from the dead?

"Why are you still sleeping? Look at the time!"

Harry looked at the clock. _6:30!_ He had slept through his alarm! It would take about ten to fifteen minutes to tunnel into the school through Honeydukes, and another five to get down to the Great Hall. There was no time for Harry to style his hair or even get a shower. But he could tell that he didn't smell very good. Panic began to set in. Phoebe's screeches weren't helping.

"I can't go _now!"_ Harry cried out in desperation. "I'm not ready! I'm barely even awake! I look like something out of _Night of the Living Dead!"_

"Well, at least let me comb your hair, honey," said Barbara, taking a brush out of her enchanted purse and trying to comb Harry's hair, but it was so messy that it hurt.

"OW!" Harry shouted, and waved her away. "What am I going to do? My uniform's packed away in my trunk!"

Barbara threw open the top of Harry's trunk and slipped some black Hogwarts robes over his head. Then she rushed into his bathroom and sprayed him with his Old Spice cologne and stuck his Hogwarts hat onto his head.

"Come on," she said, grabbing his hand. "I'm just going to put on my special earrings and we can go."

Harry waited by the door with his trunk while Barbara strapped Phoebe to her chest with Sirius's body-baby-carrier thing. Then she put on her earrings that would get her past all the anti-Muggle wards of Hogwarts; Harry wanted to show Phoebe off to all his friends at the feast, and Sirius said Barbara could come, too. They wouldn't come for every meal, but they might come for the special occasions. Regulus was going to be there, too. Of course, he thought at first about catering the affair, then realized that would be an insult to the hardworking house-elves in the kitchens.

…

Rushing to Honeydukes with Barbara wasn't so bad. She resisted her impulse to shop, which Harry appreciated. Townsfolk gave them smiles as they walked. Everyone knew she wasn't his mother when they were in the Wizarding world, since everyone knew that the Boy Who Lived had parents who did _not_ live. Several people wanted to play with Phoebe and told Barbara what a beautiful baby she was; Barbara thanked them earnestly, but said she was in a hurry.

She was holding Harry's hand, pulling him slightly. The truth was that she didn't hold his hand very often; perhaps she was afraid he wouldn't want it. Harry could only really remember her doing that once before, when Sirius had his heart attack at Reggie's Pizza Empire.

Harry was the one who led Barbara into Honeydukes, through the trapdoor and all the way to the statue of Gunhilda of Gorsemoor on the third floor. By the time they got to Hogwarts, Harry's watch told them that they were running very late. Barbara was afraid to run too fast because she was afraid it would be dangerous to Phoebe somehow. But it was ten past seven by now. The Sorting was most likely over and Dumbledore was probably giving out the announcements, if he hadn't begun the feast already. Sirius was probably sitting at the High Table, wondering where everyone was.

"Okay…now what?" said Barbara, looking a little fearful as her fingers toyed with the messy locks of black hair on her daughter's tiny head.

"Down," Harry told her. "Everyone always eats in the Great Hall. Hopefully we can kind of sneak through a side door, I guess…"

Harry could never understand why the staircases moved. It happened to him and Barbara once on their way down to Hogwart's Great Hall. Harry was used to it, so he wasn't that surprised, but Barbara let out the most terrible scream, which caused Phoebe to wake up, and soon both of them were screaming. Luckily Harry was able to guide his godmother and sister all the way down to where the students were, indeed, already eating. But soon enough, they were stopped by Snape.

"You're late," he said.

Harry swallowed. Trouble didn't seem like a good way to start off the year. But what was he supposed to say, _I overslept?_

"How did you get in here?" Snape continued, glaring at Harry.

"Through the—" Barbara began, but Harry cut her off.

"Let her finish, Potter," Snape said nastily. "What were you saying, Miss Raffelovich?"

"That's Mrs. Black to you!" she said indignantly, but Harry knew she couldn't get too angry with him, because he was the one who had first consented to brew Potiogravida-PN for her, way back in January when her early pregnancy symptoms were threatening to do her in. For all they knew, Potiogravida-PN was what had prevented another miscarriage, and Barbara said she didn't think she could suffer that terrible grief again. The memory still drove her to tears, even years later, so she was definitely forever thankful that the baby strapped to her chest now was alive and well.

What other ways were there to come into the castle besides the front doors—ones that students were supposed to know about, that is? Barbara was going to blow the secret; Harry figured she thought that if Sirius knew about the passageway, probably all the teachers did.

"How many points should we take, then?" Snape mused to himself. "Well, you were late, and as for getting into the castle, I'm sure that godfather of yours—"

"So I see you've done your job, then, Kreacher," came a smooth voice from behind Snape.

"What?" Snape snapped, turning around. "Lord Black?"

"We were _Housemates_ , Severus; you may call me by my first name," said Regulus lightly. Harry saw that he was holding Kreacher in his arms the way one might hold a toddler. He was wearing emerald-green silk robes, embroidered with the Black family crest. Unlike Harry's, his hair was tame, combed and gelled, and he smelled of expensive aftershave. But if Harry looked like the dog's breakfast, especially in comparison, Regulus didn't say so.

"Regulus Black," Snape corrected himself. "What are you talking about?"

"They got here by Kreacher's ability to Apparate inside the building," Regulus explained. "Isn't that right, Kreacher?"

Harry was surprised when Kreacher nodded.

"Then why did your elf arrive with you, Regulus, and not Potter and your sister-in-law?" Snape demanded, turning away from Barbara. Harry got the feeling he didn't like to be reminded of what he had done for her and Sirius, yet the evidence was right there strapped to Barbara's chest.

"She had an incredibly smelly diaper," Barbara spoke up. "I was going to take her into a bathroom to change her before the feast, but we got lost."

"How could you get lost?" said Snape. "Potter has had one year to get acquainted with the school."

"Yeah, but I don't use the witches' room," Harry pointed out. "So how could you expect me to find that?"

Snape didn't seem to have an answer to that, so Regulus, who had never stopped smiling pleasantly, set one hand on Snape's shoulder (they were around the same height, with Regulus being a couple inches taller).

"I suppose that answers that question, then," Regulus said. "Why linger in doorways, Severus, when you can be enjoying a delicious Start-of-Term feast? Especially when you made your best applesauce for us, didn't you, Kreacher?"

Kreacher nodded again, this time looking very pleased with himself as he wrapped his skinny arms protectively around Regulus's neck. Snape looked like he had no choice after that, so he strode into the Great Hall, all the way up to the High Table where the teachers sat.

"So why were you _really_ late?" Regulus asked with a grin as he escorted Harry and Barbara into the Great Hall, much slower than Snape.

"I overslept," Harry told him. "It was really weird. I set my alarm for five, but I didn't wake up until half-past six when Barbara and Phoebe came home from shopping."

"That _is_ weird," Regulus agreed, "especially considering nobody was home to turn off your alarm…"

"I'm going up to the High Table to see Sirius, okay?" Barbara said. "I want to explain why we're late to him, too."

"I'll go with you," said Harry.

Regulus nodded goodbye, and Harry was surprised to see that he and Kreacher sat down at the Slytherin table instead of at the High Table. As soon as Sirius saw Harry and Barbara approaching, he stood up and walked over to them.

" _There_ you all are," he said. "I was starting to get worried."

"Harry's alarm didn't go off," Barbara explained. "But we're here now."

"I see we are." Sirius reached his arms out for Phoebe, and Barbara (not without some difficulty) disentangled the baby from her chest. Little Phoebe stayed asleep as she was handed from one parent to another, and Sirius held her against his shoulder, one hand stroking her thick black hair as the other held her in place. "Did Pheebs give you any trouble?"

"Yes, actually," Barbara said honestly. "It's so much harder to manage her without you there! I don't know how I'm going to take care of her all those days you're at school, Sirius."

"I think you're doing a great job," Sirius said. "It just takes some practice, that's all…Besides, this is the whole reason we moved to Hogsmeade, so that I could be nearby to help you with the baby. And I have a crib in my teacher's quarters, so every so often she can spend the night with me, too. Her formula bottles are charmed to refill themselves."

Harry remembered how at Sirius's old studio, his plethora of hair potions had all refilled themselves. This was probably the same spell he put on the bottles, most likely. Barbara sat down at the High Table next to Sirius, and Sirius conjured a kind of high chair they could set Phoebe in while they ate. Meanwhile, Harry went to find his friends at the Gryffindor table.

"Hi, guys," he greeted them. Hermione and Ron moved over to make room for him.

"Hey," said Ron. "Where were you?"

"I overslept," Harry explained for the fourth time that day.

"You didn't get up until just before the feast?" Hermione said in disbelief.

"No, I was awake, but after I ate some treacle tart I got a food coma and got really drowsy," Harry told her. "I set an alarm, but it didn't go off for some reason—maybe I set it for AM instead of PM, I don't know. So by the time I got up, it was too late."

Harry hoped Hermione wouldn't notice the smell of him. Even though Barbara had sprayed cologne on him, he still probably smelled bad underneath.

"Well, I'm sure you won't get in trouble," she said. "It was an honest mistake."

For that evening, Harry enjoyed his first dinner since Phoebe's birth without any discussion of all the gross things newborn babies did. They discussed anything that came to mind, though; just being together was enough.


	37. Sirius and Lockhart

Living with Sirius, Barbara and Phoebe was nice, no doubt, and it was comforting to Harry knowing that his family was nearby. But it was still also nice to get back to Hogwarts, a school he'd always loved, and it was nice to see Neville, Dean and Seamus again.

Harry and Ron told their three roommates a lot of what had happened during their action-packed summer, from the wedding to Phoebe's birth to almost everything having to do with Regulus (excepting, of course, his problems with Holly). Right now, they were reiterating the story of Harry's first Quidditch match involving Malfoy.

"So, basically," Ron was saying, as Harry grinned and the other three listened in a spellbound sort of way, "Sirius caused the Quaffle to hit Malfoy's stupid head—"

"It sounded like a basketball bouncing off the court," Harry added. Seamus and Neville looked confused, but Dean laughed.

"And when he was distracted, Harry grabbed the Golden Snitch!" Ron finished triumphantly, miming it with his hand. "Not to mention, Harry and I think Malfoy's in _looove_." He dragged out the word mockingly.

"In _love?"_ Neville asked curiously. "With whom?"

"Astoria Greengrass, Holly's cousin." Ron was practically choking with laughter. "And he doesn't have a _chance_ with her!"

"She's probably going to look like Holly in a few years, y'know," said Seamus. "Then he'll have even less of a chance."

"We didn't tell you the best part, though," said Harry. "You know Malfoy's father, Lucius?"

"Hmm, what's he like?" asked Dean.

"Imagine a grown-up version of Draco, only with all of his bad traits multiplied by ten," said Harry. "He was being a huge jerk, as usual, and he insulted the Black family. So one of Sirius's relatives whacked him with her cane so hard he fell onto the ground, and when he said a bad word, she hit him again."

"Sirius says it hurts a whole lot," Ron said delightedly.

"As our friends, you two are _obligated_ to show us that beautiful memory in a Pensieve," Dean Thomas said mock-seriously.

Harry and Ron promised.

…

The next morning, however, Harry ran into a problem.

Although he liked being back at Hogwarts, one thing he _didn't_ like was the fact that he had to get up early again. Sure, he was an early riser, but he liked to get up at eight or nine, and at Hogwarts (well, at most schools in general, really) class had already started by then. The early-morning classes, which Hermione took, started at seven!

That was why Harry accidentally overslept that morning, and by the time he got out of his shower, his watch sitting on the sink told him he didn't have time to towel-dry his hair, which was his first mistake. He put in the mousse anyway, which was his second mistake. And his third mistake was realizing too late that at Hogwarts, there was no electricity, therefore no hairdryers, and he didn't know Sirius's hair-drying spell. He didn't even know the incantation. He was running out of time; his roommates were already tying their shoes and grabbing their books, while he was standing in the bathroom, his hair wet and dripping with product, and he was wearing nothing but his emerald-green dressing gown.

So he ended up just slapping his pointed wizard's hat over his hair, even though nobody wore those except to special events or when it was very cold, and running to meet his friends in the common room. At least Ron and Hermione waited for him.

"Not a word about the hair," he told them, and they nodded.

When they got down to the Great Hall, though, there was a huge surprise waiting for them.

"Oh my God, look!" Hermione shrieked.

They looked. Sitting at the high table was a blonde wizard with a turquoise wizard hat perched on his head, perfectly matching his turquoise robes. He was talking to Sirius, who looked a little bit irritated. Harry recognized him as the wizard from his textbooks—Gilderoy Lockhart!

"Well, I guess that explains why our entire Defense booklist was written by him," said Harry.

"Why wasn't he here last night?" Ron added, raising an eyebrow.

"Probably on some important mission," said Hermione. "Have you read his books yet?"

"No," said Harry and Ron together.

"You should have!" Hermione said in surprise. "He's done so many amazing things."

As they sat down, they saw that most of the girls had their eyes on Lockhart.

"Do you think he's married?" said a girl named Lavender Brown, gazing up at their new teacher longingly.

"Hmm… _Magical Me_ doesn't mention a woman," her best friend, Parvati, added hopefully. "And there's no marriage ring!"

"Oh, come on," said Ron. "If he tried to marry one of _you_ , he would get arrested."

"You're one to talk." Lavender turned to Parvati and grinned. "Remember the way he was pining after Holly Greengrass last year?"

"That was _different_ ," said Ron, but the girls just giggled.

…

September 2, 1992 was a Wednesday, and the second-year Gryffindors found out that they had Care of Magical Creatures with Sirius every Thursday. Today, they had Herbology and Transfiguration before lunch, then after lunch and break, Defense Against the Dark Arts.

In Herbology, Professor Sprout showed them what Mandrakes were and how to repot them. They all had to wear earmuffs, so the baby Mandrakes' cries wouldn't knock them out (although Neville apparently didn't have his on properly, because as soon as the demonstration Mandrake was pulled out of its pot, he promptly collapsed onto the floor). They also met a Hufflepuff boy named Justin Flinch-Fletchley, who seemed to be a big Lockhart fan.

"Awfully brave chap," he was saying about Lockhart. "Have you read his books? I'd have died of fear if I'd been cornered in a telephone booth by a werewolf, but he stayed cool and—zap—just fantastic."

"What do you mean, zap?" said Harry, who hadn't bothered to read Lockhart's books. "Werewolves are people too, you know."

"He used the Homorphus Charm on it, that's all," said Justin.

"Is that a _real_ spell?" said Harry, turning to Hermione.

"Well, he mentioned how complex it is, so maybe that's why we haven't learned it yet," she replied, but Harry thought if Hermione hadn't heard of it before she read Lockhart's books, it might not be a real spell. But they didn't talk anymore after that, because they had to repot the Mandrakes.

It was only during lunch, though, after Transfiguration, that Harry began to worry about Hermione. She was acting just like Lavender and Parvati—well, just like _all_ the other girls, really. Harry tried to tell himself it was only a silly crush, similar to Ron's crush on Holly, just like Lavender said. But that didn't exactly make him feel better.

Things went from bad to worse around break-time. Harry thought he'd gotten used to celebrity by now, remembering the warning Sirius gave him the summer before last—that people might act like idiots just because he was famous.

" _People might be a little…impolite," Sirius said in an undertone. "Insensitive. They might ask you if you remember what Voldemort looks like or if you heard him say the Killing Curse or if the scar hurt when you got it—things like that. You have to forgive them, you know; it's part of celebrity."_

" _Oh…I see," said Harry nervously._

" _Even if they don't," Sirius continued, standing up, "they're still going to want to talk to you, shake your hand, and you can bet they'll be staring at that scar. You'll forgive me for being blunt, but you're going to have to get used to it_."

Harry was ambushed by the camera of Colin Creevey, a first-year who looked like he was about six or seven years old, he was still taken off guard. Instead of remembering the walk Sirius taught him or the tips in posture and tone of voice, all he could think of was what Sirius had said to Regulus and Remus upon the discovery of Harry's being a Parselmouth—that Harry ran away from the spotlight, instead of "embracing" it like James had. Colin Creevey, after snapping some photos of his own, asked for Ron to take a picture and then sign it.

Things might have been just fine if Malfoy (and later, Lockhart) hadn't shown up. Malfoy was already smarting about the Quidditch match last summer, Harry knew, but Lockhart insisted on taking a photo _with_ Harry.

"Come on then, Mr. Creevey," Lockhart told Colin. "A double portrait, can't do better than that, and we'll both sign it for you."

Malfoy and his cronies were laughing hysterically while Lockhart had his arm around Harry, posing for the camera with his huge, gleaming white teeth. It was horrible. Harry was trying to get away when Lockhart turned suddenly.

"Oh my GOD!" Colin screeched, reminding Harry of Dylan, the teenage father who used to work at Reggie's Pizza Empire. "IT'S SIRIUS BLACK!"

Once again, Harry felt incredibly thankful for his godfather. Now the focus was on him.

"I _heard_ about you!" Colin was saying. "Didn't you get framed for killing thirteen people? And didn't one of them turn out to not be dead after all? And didn't you almost bite his arm off? And isn't he in Azkaban now?"

"That's right, Colin," said Sirius with a small sigh, then he turned to Lockhart. "Can you explain to me what you are doing with Harry?"

"Potter is giving out signed photos!" Malfoy shouted again.

"I didn't ask you, Malfoy," said Sirius, glowering at him, then turned back to Lockhart. "Well?"

"Just giving this student an eyeful of the two most famous people in the world!" Lockhart replied cheerily.

Harry pleaded Sirius with his eyes, trying to communicate telepathically: _Help me!_

"Well, he's got to get to class in a few minutes," said Sirius, reaching down and disentangling Harry's arm from Lockhart's. "Maybe Colin can take a picture of just you. Oh and by the way, Gilderoy, I've been meaning to tell you—I've got some hair potions that could really help you with volume and shine. I'm sure you have almost as many hair products as I do, but your execution needs some work."

Lockhart looked positively gobsmacked. Harry suddenly realized Lockhart was probably the only man as vain about his hair as Sirius was, so this was a pretty big blow.

"I'll have you know, Sirius," said Lockhart, recovering his calm, "that I am a hair genius, and my dream is to market my _own_ hair potion line."

Sirius snorted. "Well, I guess after awhile a name can sell on its own."

"I can show you some hairspray tricks to keep it out of your eyes," Lockhart said back, touching Sirius's bangs, but Sirius swatted his hand away.

"My hair looks effortlessly natural," said Sirius. "I'll bet yours wouldn't even move in a gale."

"It looks like _you_ need to work on your moisturizing." Lockhart pointed at Sirius's hands. "Are those dry palms I see?"

"Your palms would be dry, too, if you had a newborn daughter at home," Sirius snapped. "I'm sorry I don't have time to moisturize my whole self after _every_ shower anymore."

"Looks like you don't have time to shave, either," Lockhart pointed out. "What, do you never pick up a razor?"

"Do _you?"_ Sirius reached out and touched Lockhart's cheek, which was as smooth as a baby's bottom. "Hmm, once you hit puberty, I bet it'll really start growing in."

"When was the last time you got your nails manicured?" Lockhart fired back. "Is that thirty-two years' worth of buildup I see on your cuticles? Tut, tut."

"Well, at least I don't wear blue eyeshadow," Sirius grouched.

"It brings out the beautiful blue in my eyes," Lockhart informed him. "Have you even _had_ a color analysis?"

"Don't need one," Sirius said. "I look good in _everything_."

It was kind of funny to see the two of them at odds. Sirius had been the dreamboat professor last year, the girls hanging on his every word, but now Lockhart was taking over that role. Harry wondered if Sirius was jealous of Lockhart for trying to take away his title as the sexiest thing to ever walk the halls of Hogwarts. To Harry, there was absolutely no competition as to who was a better man, and certainly a better wizard, but then, the Green-Eyed Monster could blind you to things like that.

Hermione was eventually the one to break them up.

"Come on, guys," she said imploringly. "Don't fight. I think you could be friends."

Sirius and Lockhart looked at each other like they doubted it, but before they could argue any longer, the bell rang to signal the end of break. Harry was about to leave for Defense with his friends, but Sirius held him back.

"Speaking of hair," said Sirius with a grin as he took Harry's hat off of his head, "what is _this?"_

"Shut up," said Harry, cramming his hat back on his head, but he eventually told Sirius the whole sordid story.

"That was my fault," said Sirius, shaking his head. "I should have shown you the hair-drying spell…Tell you what. Come to my teacher's quarters after class, and I'll show you how to do your hair with magic. I invented the spell when I was in first year, after all."

Sirius took Harry to the wizards' room to help him wash the mousse out, used his wand to dry his hair quickly, and wrote him a hall pass. Harry stuffed his hat in his book bag and left, and before he knew it, he found himself Lockhart's classroom.

 **TO BE CONTINUED!**


	38. Promotion

When Hermione got a perfect score on Lockhart's stupid quiz, Harry felt even more worried. If his girlfriend now liked this "stud," did that mean she didn't like him anymore? He remembered last year, when he first realized he was in love with Hermione, the way he had written _HJP+HJG_ on all his papers and written her a long love note. What if that was how she felt about Lockhart now? Was all their love for nothing?

Harry's quill was mindlessly wandering around on his paper, remembering his awkward Christmas kiss with Hermione, and wondering if Gilderoy Lockhart ever kissed a girl under the mistletoe. Harry was pretty sure his DADA professor wore some kind of lip gloss, and he didn't know if women liked to kiss a guy who wore lip gloss, but still…the girls _all_ seemed to want to kiss Lockhart. Harry was ripped from his thoughts, though, when Ron nudged him. Lockhart's hand was over a cage with a blanket on top of it.

"I must ask you not to scream," he was saying. "It might provoke them."

And next thing you know, the class found themselves surrounded by freshly caught Cornish pixies, destroying the classroom and terrorizing the students. When even Lockhart couldn't stop them, he hid under his desk too. It looked like they were done for, until the door of the classroom swung open and Harry heard a familiar voice.

"Will you lot keep it down, I'm trying to—oh my God!"

It was Sirius, holding Phoebe in the crook of his arm, his other hand holding a bottle, a dirty burping cloth over one shoulder. He had evidently been trying to get his daughter to sleep; her cries were louder even than the pixies' chatter. Harry wondered at first why he was on the third floor, then realized he had probably just gotten back from Hogsmeade.

"What's going on?" he shouted.

"Pixies!" Harry yelled back. "Lockhart unleashed them on the class!"

"You _idiot!"_ Sirius grouched, glaring at Lockhart. " _Do_ something about it, then!"

"I can't!" Lockhart whined. "They just threw my wand out the window!"

"Pathetic," Sirius mumbled, setting Phoebe's bottle down on the nearest desk, then taking out his wand. Lockhart flinched like he thought Sirius was going to curse him, but the whole class watched in shock as Sirius, with a few waves of his wand, swept all the pixies neatly back into their cage. When he snapped his fingers, the cage slammed shut.

The class cheered, coming out of hiding. Sirius held Phoebe against his chest so she could feel his heartbeat. He bounced her very gently, and after she finally burped up milk all over his shoulder, she went to sleep. Some of the girls squealed and clamored over to see a fresh baby in their classroom, but Sirius politely told them she was sleeping. Then he turned to Lockhart.

"What were you thinking?" he demanded, but before Lockhart could say anything in response, Dumbledore strolled in.

"Ah! I _thought_ I heard the cries of a newborn baby!" he said. "So here's the newest member of the Black family tree?"

"Yes," said Sirius, "but can't you see she's sleeping?"

Harry knew better than any of his classmates that the times when Phoebe slept should be savored. If she wasn't sleeping, she was either screaming, throwing up, or filling diapers, sometimes more than one at the same time. From the way Sirius looked these days, you'd think he was still in Azkaban. That was one of the reasons why sleeping in a dorm, as opposed to down the hall from a newborn, was a welcome change.

"Very well," said the headmaster. "Now, what have you all been learning?"

Lockhart stood up, straightening his robes and adjusting his hat, and threw one arm across Sirius's shoulders.

"I was just showing dear old Sirius here how to take care of a Cornish pixie attack," he declared. "They were about to attack his baby, but I whipped them back into their cage at the last minute."

Sirius bared his teeth in shock and anger, but Dumbledore smiled.

"Well done, Gilderoy!" he said. "Sirius, you must be more careful about where you bring her."

"Don't listen to him, Professor Dumbledore!" Harry burst out, standing up in his seat. " _Sirius_ saved the day, not Lockhart."

"Lockhart is lying," added Ron.

" _Professor_ Lockhart, Ron," Dumbledore corrected gently. "Sirius, were you the one who put the pixies back in their cage?"

"Yes, I was," Sirius told him. "It's a simple spell any grown-ass wizard should be able to do. Besides, Dumbledore, why did you even hire someone who would do something like that? He was right about one thing—they could have attacked Phoebe, or _any_ of these students."

"Well, it's just that…" Dumbledore glanced at Lockhart, but Lockhart was distracted by brushing his hair, so he said in a whisper, "Gilderoy was the only man for the job."

"Rubbish," said Sirius. "I seriously doubt that a job as prestigious as Defense Against the Dark Arts professor had only _one_ applicant."

"People think it's cursed," Dumbledore reminded him.

"Be that as it may," Sirius insisted, glaring at him, "everyone knows that if the headmaster can't find a teacher for the job, the Ministry will provide one. Not that I think the Ministry is all perfect and wonderful, but the school board could certainly have provided a more competent teacher."

Lockhart was looking at himself admiringly in a little hand mirror, so maybe he didn't care that Sirius and Dumbledore were talking about him. Harry briefly registered that before now, Sirius was the only man he knew who carried around a little hand mirror. Lockhart even had the same one Sirius had—when it was open, it was a hairbrush, too, and you held the mirror part like a handle to comb your hair with the brush part.

"Okay, fine," said Dumbledore abashedly. "I thought…I suppose I thought if I let Gilderoy teach, it would expose his incompetence."

"Are you insane?!" Sirius barked. "You're potentially putting these kids' lives on the line just so you can expose this idiot? You're going to deprive them of their educations and set them behind a year just so you can further your lunatic plans?" Sirius was almost shouting now, and Harry was sure he was remembering last year, when it was Harry whose life had been on the line. "When are you going to understand that the entire world is not your little chess board? This is completely irresponsible and reckless! As the legal guardian of a student, I demand he be removed!"

Harry wondered what his father would have thought if he could see Sirius right now—lecturing the headmaster on _responsibility_ , of all things, and _recklessness_ , while he held a newborn baby in his arms. It was surreal.

"Very well…" Dumbledore shrugged. "But if I remove Lockhart, who will take his place? If I contact the Ministry, it will put the curriculum on hold, too."

Harry was all too eager to remove Lockhart, so he shouted, "Sirius can do it!"

"Huh?" said Sirius.

"Do it, Sirius!" chimed in Ron. "You taught it to the Gryffindors last year!"

"Well, true, but…" Sirius looked a little reluctant.

"If you want it, Sirius, the job's yours," Dumbledore said. "Think of it as a promotion. Like you said, the Ministry will provide me with a new Care of Magical Creatures teacher. Better to put that on hold than Defense Against the Dark Arts. Gilderoy?"

"Yes, Professor?" said Lockhart smoothly, placing his little hand mirror back inside the pocket of his robes.

"I think it would be in everyone's best interest if you went back to writing your books," he said. "Sirius is going to be our new Defense teacher."

Lockhart stared at everyone, eyebrows raised. The girls looked like they didn't know who they wanted as a teacher. Lockhart and Sirius were both good-looking; Lockhart had written those books, of course, but Sirius had been an amazing Defense teacher last year. Who would be the best choice? To most boys, however, there was no question.

"Well…fine," said Lockhart with a shrug. "See you laters, gang, celebrity awaits!"

And he swept out of the room.

"He's off to bigger and better things," said Dumbledore serenely, and then he smiled. "Sirius, I was quite impressed. You really do seem to have grown up—giving me a lecture on how I was being reckless. If someone like _you_ gives me a lecture on that, I know I must have made a mistake. And think of all the other changes you've made! You don't drink anymore, even."

"You know, you're right," said Sirius in frustration. "Where did I ever go that made me so darn responsible?"

"Why, I should think that would be obvious, Sirius." Dumbledore looked down at Phoebe and smiled. "It's a place called fatherhood."

…

"I'm thinking he might be right about that," Sirius was saying back in his teacher's quarters as he washed Harry's hair over the sink. They had to get it wet again, so it could be styled. "They said in the childbirth class that having a son or daughter makes you a better man."

"Why?" asked Harry.

"Because pregnant women are really hormonal, and when you're around your baby's mother, some of those get attached to you," said Sirius. "Or something like that."

"But since Barbara's not pregnant anymore, isn't she not as hormonal?"

"Harry, human beings are basically walking piles of hormones and pheromones," Sirius said, finishing Harry's hair and lifting his head out of the sink. "Take it from someone who has a canine sense of smell, even when I'm not in my dog form. I can tell when people are feeling sad, nervous, horny, whatever, just by the way they smell. It's a weird ability to have, but it can be a useful one."

"You told me that when you were sneaking around after curfew with my dad, you could always smell when a teacher was coming," said Harry. "Before you had the Map, I mean. Then you could just use that."

"When your dad wasn't using it to watch Lily travel all around the school, that is," said Sirius, drying his hands on a towel and getting out his wand. "I had to snatch it away and tell him not to be such a stalker."


	39. Lesson Number One

To the disappointment of most of the second-year Gryffindors, they didn't have Sirius's Defense Against the Dark Arts classes until Monday. All the Gryffindors who had been members of his club last year were excited, because they knew they had a leg up on the Slytherins, who were taking the class with them, since Sirius would be teaching things they already knew.

The first week of school was always interesting, but the weekend was not without incident.

Quidditch season was beginning. This would normally have been an exciting thing, but because of Regulus's pureblood party last summer, Harry knew full-well who the newest member of the Slytherin team was, and the first practice on Saturday was when Malfoy chose to reveal it to everyone. Thanks to Lucius Malfoy, the whole Slytherin team had Nimbus Two Thousand and Ones.

Wood booked the field in advance for practice, but the Slytherin captain, Marcus Flint, had a note from Snape saying they had permission to take control of the field. This didn't seem very fair to Harry, but what could he do?

…

Since the rest of the weekend was rather boring, everyone (well, everyone except Slytherin House) was excited when Monday rolled along. All the Gryffindors surged into the Defense classroom, because Sirius was one of their own; the Slytherins all skulked in. They probably wouldn't like Sirius any more than they liked Lockhart.

Harry figured the Defense Against the Dark Arts class was going to be harder than the club, because the club was open to Gryffindors of _all_ years, but in this case, Sirius was teaching each year separately. Not only that, but classes met much more often—twice a week, as opposed to biweekly, as the club had been. Harry was sure Sirius could do it, but he didn't know how.

Turns out, Sirius started the second years' lesson the same way he started his first lesson in the club: Resourcefulness.

"Most people think Defense Against the Dark Arts is just about Dark Magic, or about battling Dark creatures," Sirius was saying. "Don't get me wrong, those things _are_ important to learn about, but in this class, what I'm going to teach you to do is the most important thing of all: cutting it right off at the source. That is, mowing down Dark wizards."

Harry looked at the Slytherins. They seemed unhappy, possibly because a lot of their fathers had been Dark wizards. Harry would bet anything Malfoy's father had been one, at least; Malfoy was glaring daggers at Sirius.

"The great majority of your lessons will be practical," he continued. "We'll learn about Dark Magic and Dark creatures, because, like I said, those things are important. We'll learn offensive and defensive magic, as well as a unit on hand-to-hand combat at the end."

All the Gryffindors grinned and exchanged glances. That had been the most fun unit last year, and it had _really_ come in handy for Harry.

"Today, though," said Sirius, "we'll start out with the psychological aspect of the job: what's going through your mind during a duel, and, of course, what's going through your opponent's mind."

"Why is _that_ important?" Pansy Parkinson said meanly.

"Raise your hand, please, Miss Parkinson, but I must admit that's a good question," Sirius told her. "Mostly it's because if you know what he's thinking, you can head off what he's going to do. That's what an Auror's job is, to think the way Dark wizards think."

That day, Sirius's Defense class didn't actually do much. The class only had Lockhart's books, of course, so they didn't have any text to read, so Sirius had them take a lot of complicated notes on things like resourcefulness and ways to take advantage of your opponent's weaknesses. He gave them two homework assignments. One of them was the same assignment he'd given to the students at the club last year.

"Your first homework assignment," said Sirius, "is to pick either an everyday object OR an everyday, non-offensive or defensive spell, and write one roll of parchment about how it can be used as a weapon against a Dark wizard. Your second assignment is to buy _Defense Against the Dark Arts for Beginners_ at the school bookstore, and get your Lockhart books refunded."

"But how? We bought them in Diagon Alley," Hermione pointed out.

"The school bookstore will take them," Sirius replied.

After class that day, Harry, Ron and Hermione headed to the school bookstore to buy their new textbooks. The school bookstore really was a marvel; it had tons of books, of course, but it also had apparel, stuffed animals, food, souvenirs, and toiletries. Harry and Ron got chocolate frogs there, and Hermione got some Pumpkin Pasties. They sold their Lockhart books and got their new textbooks. Harry also got a new Gryffindor onesie for Phoebe, Ron got her a Gryffindor pacifier, and Hermione got her Gryffindor socks, with a matching hat.

…

September was mostly filled with Quidditch practices. Just like Harry remembered it being last year, Quidditch was very cutthroat. This time, though, it was personal. Malfoy was determined to pay Harry back for beating him at Regulus's party, and Harry was sure he wanted to impress Astoria, who ended up being Sorted into Slytherin, like him.

Sirius came to Harry's practices when he could, although he was often busy with either the baby or his classes or both, and Ron and Hermione came almost every time. After one particularly rainy Quidditch practice, the three of them were walking down the hallway when they spotted three tall Slytherin girls gossiping by the wall.

One of them, the prettiest, had long blonde hair that rather reminded Harry of Lucius Malfoy's. The second was a freckled redhead with wavy hair, and the third was a brunette, her hair about the same color as Holly's, but instead of shoulder-length, it was down to her waist and curly. Harry and his friends edged over to see what they were talking so animatedly about.

"You'll never believe what I heard about Jane Jenkins," the redhead was saying, brown eyes gleaming.

"You mean Plain Jane?" said the brunette with a cruel laugh.

"Exactly," said the redhead. "Let's just say…a little birdie told me she's not a true pureblood."

" _What?"_ said the blonde hungrily, leaning in. "You mean, she was…?"

"Blood-adopted," said the redhead, nodding.

"Ooh, this is good!" The brunette was laughing again. "Wait until we spread it around. She'll be ruined!"

Harry felt bad for Jane Jenkins, whoever she was; Sirius had warned him to stay away from girls like those Slytherins, girls who gossiped. But still, the girls were talking about something that was unfamiliar to him.

"What's blood adoption?" he asked his friends, as they walked away from the gossip-mongers.

"It's when you adopt a baby or a child, but you do a ritual that makes them blood-related to you," Hermione explained, "hence the name. It basically turns an adopted child into a biological one."

"Lots of pureblood families would take advantage of it if they had trouble producing heirs," Ron added. "They'd adopt a Muggle baby boy from an orphanage, and blood-adopt him. Of course, it was a secret, and they claimed the baby was theirs from the beginning, but now the baby shared their genetics."

"But the baby was a Muggle," said Harry. "How could he be heir to a pureblood family?"

"Because magical ability is hereditary," Hermione reminded him. "Considering that now, all four of his grandparents were purebloods, the chances are 100% that he'll inherit a magic gene."

"So it was a pureblood thing?"

"Not always," said Ron. "My mum knows a half-blood family who did it just because they couldn't have any children at all, and after the baby was born, they did the ritual on him…just so he would be 'theirs,' so to speak. I guess it's kind of a way of saying the baby is a part of the family."

Ron and Hermione kept discussing it, but now Harry was tuning them out. Only one thing was on his mind: Why hadn't Sirius blood-adopted him?


	40. Blood Adoption

Harry didn't sleep very well that night; he even dreamed of Sirius abandoning him for Barbara and Phoebe, his "real" family. So the next day he was extremely tired, so tired that he didn't even bother to do his hair. It didn't seem that important anymore, somehow.

It just so happened that Sirius's Defense Against the Dark Arts was that day, too. They were having a quiz, and Harry couldn't think of any of the answers. Defense was one of the subjects that Harry was _good_ at! So why couldn't he concentrate? He looked up at his godfather at the front of the room. Sirius was sitting with his legs up on his desk, crossed at the ankles, reading the _Daily Prophet_ , his tongue between his teeth.

"Time!" Sirius called. Harry stared down at his paper. He'd only answered two of the questions. But before he could do any more, Sirius had Summoned everyone's papers with his wand.

Next, the students were made to Disarm each other while Sirius graded the papers. He paired each Gryffindor up with a Slytherin, probably because he knew the Gryffindors would do better, seeing as they had extra experience from last year. It wasn't fair, exactly, but Harry wasn't complaining.

Once class was over, and Harry had Disarmed Malfoy several times, he tried to get out of the classroom as quickly as he could, so he didn't have to be alone with Sirius. But—

"Harry?" said Sirius. "I'd like to speak with you."

It was his professional voice, not his personal one, and Harry figured it was something to do with the fact that he had failed the quiz. Harry trudged up to Sirius's desk.

"What?" he mumbled.

"Come into my teacher's quarters." Sirius gestured with his hand, and they went into the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher's office, and then through the side door that led to the living quarters of the current teacher. It was similar to Professor Kettleburn's quarters, which Sirius had lived in last year.

"What is it?" Harry said again, sitting on the couch. Sirius sat next to him.

"Your mind seemed a million miles away today," Sirius said matter-of-factly. "What were you thinking about?"

"Nothing."

"Well…okay." Sirius shrugged. Harry knew he didn't want to pry; and at first, he decided he could hold out forever. The knowledge that he hadn't really been welcomed into the family was something he could live with…maybe.

But the thing about Sirius was, when Harry was with him, he often found himself saying what was on his mind, and he wasn't entirely responsible. Sirius was the first confidant he'd ever had.

"What do you know about blood adoption?" he said finally.

Sirius looked surprised. "Why, what do _you_ know about blood adoption?"

"I heard some girls talking about it yesterday," Harry said sadly, although he spoke softly, so Sirius wouldn't hear just how sad he was. "And I wondered why you didn't blood-adopt me."

"Now, Harry," said Sirius, raising an eyebrow, "why would I do that?"

Harry could feel tears in the corners of his eyes now, and that was really annoying, so he tried to get angry, instead. "Well, I thought you cared about me!"

"I _do_ care about you," said Sirius, "so I don't have the slightest idea what you're on about."

"It's just…" Harry looked up at Sirius, who was looking confused. "If you really did love me like a son, why wouldn't you do the ritual to me?"

"Because, Harry, I'm _against_ blood adoption."

"What?!"

"I find the practice appalling, at the very least." Sirius put his arm around Harry's shoulders. "It's essentially changing someone to fit your image. You know what that does? It changes who you are, like you weren't good enough to begin with. I don't want to change who you are, because I love who you are."

Harry was in shock. "But…but if you changed my genetics, wouldn't I still be the same person on the inside?"

"Probably," said Sirius. "So there's no point in changing who you are on the outside, either."

"Why do people do it, then?" Harry asked.

"You tell me," said Sirius. "I guess people are so arrogant that they can't love a child unless it has their—what's it called?"

"DNA," Harry supplied.

"Yeah, that." Sirius sighed. "Family is about love, not blood. Remember that."

Harry thought of what he could learn from his father—judge people for who they are, not what they are. What he learned from his mother—stand up for what you believe in and protect the ones you love. And now, what he learned from Sirius—family is about love, not blood.

"Besides," Sirius continued, "remember what I said when I gave you your dad's cuff links? You're the most important part of your parents. If I blood-adopted you, what would happen to James and Lily's son?" Sirius held Harry's chin in his hands so that the light from the window landed squarely in his green eyes. "The messy black hair, failing eyesight, green eyes? Why, I wouldn't get rid of them for the world."

…

Harry felt a lot better after that conversation. The more he thought about it, the more it made sense. It didn't seem right to change someone permanently like that; when you took them into your home, you were signing on for everything.

As he walked through the hallways, he was startled out of his thoughts by a strange voice: " _Let me rip…tear…kill…"_

"Huh?" Harry looked around.

" _So hungry…for so long…"_

There was nobody around. The voice sounded so clear, though. Harry knew he _couldn't_ be imagining it. He hoped he wasn't becoming like those people his shrink, Dr. Stefansen, told him about, those who saw or heard things that weren't there. He decided not to tell anyone about this strange voice, at least not for now.


	41. Bad News All Around

October did not exactly get off to a fantastic start.

Harry didn't hear the weird disembodied voice again for the rest of September, and he decided maybe it was someone playing a joke on him or something. October 1 was Holly Greengrass's birthday, so Sirius and Harry sent her a present. But a few days later, Sirius looked awfully depressed as he entered the Gryffindor common room and collapsed into an armchair by the fire.

"Well, I've got bad news about Regulus and Holly," he said, looking depressed.

"Oh, no!" Hermione rushed over to him, Harry and Ron not far behind. "Let me guess—he proposed for her birthday, and she turned him down?!"

Harry felt his jaw drop. Holly had seemed so crazy about Regulus…

"Looks like it," Sirius said miserably. "I was at Garlock and Company in Hogsmeade to buy Barbara a nice necklace, and the goblins were all out of sorts because Regulus returned a 5,000-Galleon engagement ring. All I could guess was what you said, Hermione—he must have proposed to her on her birthday, and been horribly disappointed."

So much for Lady Black, Harry thought. It looked like Phoebe actually wasn't going to have Holly as her aunt. Ron, of course, looked the most disappointed of all.

…

Several uneventful weeks later, though, they got news of a different kind. Sirius, Barbara, Harry, Ron and Hermione were all sitting in the Gryffindor common room, Barbara wearing her special earrings that let her into Hogwarts. Hermione was feeding Phoebe a bottle when Neville stumbled in and ran over to them. When he was near the couch, he tripped over his own feet as if someone had just used _Impedimenta_ on him, and face-planted on the cushions.

"What's the matter, Neville?" asked Harry.

Neville raised his head up from the couch. His face was pale, his eyes were overbright, and his hair was messy.

"I was walking past the staffroom and I heard Dumbledore talking to McGonagall," he moaned, "and I've got horrible news!"

"What?" said Hermione interestedly.

"Well, you know how April Alloy is pregnant?" Neville began.

"Yeah," said Sirius, "but so are Roxanne Leigh and Jennifer Jones."

"How do _you_ know?" Barbara demanded.

"It's amazing what you can detect with a canine sense of smell, especially when it comes to the fairer sex," Sirius said simply. "But I usually choose not to mention it."

"O-kay…" Barbara shrugged and turned to Neville. "What's this big news of yours?"

"Well, the way I hear it, April's mother got really, really angry," said Neville. "So she sent Dumbledore a letter demanding why…well…"

" _What?"_ said Hermione again.

"Why the school didn't teach her about, you know…" Neville was looking majorly embarrassed.

"Oh, I see." Barbara nodded. "Her mother wanted Hogwarts to have a sex ed program?"

"Yes!" Neville bleated. "And now _all_ the second-years have to take this class called 'Our Changing Bodies.' It's going to be a nightmare!"

Everyone stared in shock for a moment.

"At least you'll have a chance to get any questions answered," Barbara said finally, trying to put a positive spin on it.

"No, I won't! I've _never_ spoken to an adult about this kind of thing, and I never will!" Neville looked close to tears. "April Alloy is a _fifth_ year! Why do we have to learn this in second?!"

"Because you're entering puberty now," Barbara told him.

Neville just shook his head and buried his face in the couch cushion again.

"Maybe Sirius is our teacher," Ron said hopefully. "Then it wouldn't be too bad."

"I doubt it," said Sirius. "I wouldn't know how to teach a class like that."

"Just do what the boys' class did at my Muggle secondary school." Barbara giggled. "Lecture them on the evils of masturbation, and have them practice putting on condoms."

"Pardon me?" said Sirius.

"Not on _themselves_ ," she clarified. "On phallic-shaped objects. Like bananas and things."

"That's not even the worst part," Neville continued. "All the second-year boys are having it together, so that means we have to take it with the Slytherins."

"Oh, that'll be a blast," said Ron. "What do you think the class will be like, though?"

"We had a question box in my sex ed class," Barbara said, remembering. "You could write anonymous questions on slips of paper and put them on a box, except I accidentally wrote my name on mine, and when the teacher read mine out loud, she read my name, too. It was really embarrassing."

"What question did you ask?" said Sirius.

"I _think_ I asked if you could get pregnant from kissing," said Barbara, trying to remember. "After we watched the Miracle of Life video, we girls were all pretty nervous."

…

So the very next day, just after breakfast, every second-year left the Great Hall to learn about Our Changing Bodies. Hermione went up to the Transfiguration classroom with the other girls, where they would get their information from Professor McGonagall, and the boys were sent to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom on the third floor.

Harry and Ron had to hold Neville by the arms because he was in danger of collapsing.

"I just know I'm going to fail," he moaned, "and even if I don't, I'll probably faint."

"No, you won't," Harry told him, pulling him along. "Come on, we don't want to be late."

"Maybe they'll read the question box," said Ron. "Who do you think our teacher's going to be?"

"This is the Defense classroom," said Harry. "Do you think it's Sirius?"

"No, he would have told us." Ron shook his head. "I think they're just using it because he doesn't have a class right now."

"To be honest with you," said Harry as he opened the door, "I don't really care who we get as long as it isn't—"

"Good morning, boys," said Snape, giving them a wicked smile.


	42. Our Changing Bodies

Harry, Ron and Neville all stopped in their tracks. _Snape?!_

"Sit down," said the Potions professor, pointing to the desks, and they sat. The Gryffindor boys all crowded together, as if it would protect them from whatever Snape was going to do. When Harry looked around, he saw that there wasn't anything written on the blackboard, and that made him feel even more uneasy. What were they going to discuss today? Harry remembered that magazine he and Sirius had read on the airplane—the "Relationships" section, with all the different poses. He shuddered involuntarily, thinking of Snape instructing them on that.

After everyone had arrived and the bell rang loudly, Snape started writing on the blackboard: _For Wizards Only_.

"We'll start today off with a test, and it WILL be graded," he told the class. "You have ten minutes."

Harry saw that Snape was passing out sheets of paper, and he wondered what was on them, because as soon as someone got one there were loud exclamations and gasps. Someone shouted, "Oh my _God!"_ Finally, one landed on Harry's desk, and he gasped, too.

It was a very, very detailed diagram, and at the top it read "Anatomy of the Male Variety." There were a bunch of lines, each pointing a specific part, and each line had a blank text box attached to the end of it. There was a word bank, as there almost always is on labeling quizzes, but when Harry scanned the word bank, half of the terms he didn't even recognize. There were twenty-two terms in all.

Possibly the first thing Harry learned in class that day was that he knew a lot less about himself than he thought, because he got stuck after labeling only three things. When he looked around, he saw that he wasn't the only one having trouble. Neville was biting his lip, looking anxious; Ron was chewing on his pencil and tapping his fingers on the desk. Even Malfoy looked bewildered.

"Time!" said Snape, Summoning all the papers, just like Sirius had. Great, now Harry had failed another test—but unlike Sirius, Harry didn't think Snape would let him retake it. How could you fail a test on your own anatomy? But all the boys were probably wondering that.

Everyone watched as Snape looked through the papers.

"Despicable," he declared, as everyone squirmed uncomfortably in their seats. "Not one of you was able to correctly identify the prostate gland. Most of you couldn't find the scrotum. And Mr. Weasley—" Snape paused in front of Ron's desk—"'Asshole' is not the word I was looking for."

"Strange, seeing as he is one himself," Harry whispered to Ron, and Ron had to try very hard not to burst out laughing. Dean and Seamus heard, and they started snickering, too.

"There shall be no childish giggling in my class!" Snape snapped. "Those of you who failed the test—everyone, in other words—must fill it out completely for homework."

Snape passed the diagrams back, and Harry glared at him. How were they supposed to fill out the diagrams if he hadn't taught them anything yet? But then again, maybe that was the point.

"What we will be studying in the first unit of this course is the male anatomy and the changes a young wizard goes through during puberty," Snape informed them all, pacing back and forth in front of the class. "Most teenage wizards are smelly, immature, hormone-crazed savages, and the purpose of this class, or so I am told, is to teach you to not copulate with every witch you meet." Snape paused and glared at everyone. "Well? Why aren't you all writing that down?!"

There was a sudden flurry of movement as everyone got their writing materials out. Harry knew that this time, he wouldn't be able to copy off Hermione's notes, so he had to do this on his own. At the top of his parchment paper, he wrote, _Our Changing Bodies, Lesson 1._

"Professor," said a Hufflepuff boy Harry didn't know the name of, "what does 'copulate' mean?"

"It means sexual intercourse," Snape snapped, and the boy turned red. Ignoring him, Snape pulled an easel to the front of the room and turned to another graphic picture, except instead of the quiz, which was a drawing with labels for all the specific parts, this was what looked like an actual photograph—and it was a wizard photograph, which meant it was moving, too.

There was a loud chorus of "EEEWWWW!" as all the boys turned their faces away.

"SILENCE!" Snape shouted at them. "This is what a male orgasm looks like. Whenever you become sexually aroused and reach a climax, this is what happens."

Most of the boys looked extremely uncomfortable. Harry wished Snape had opened a question box and left it at that. Neville's face was in his hands, and even Malfoy, usually pale as a ghost, was a little pink-faced. Ron, Dean and Seamus were snickering quietly.

"This image is probably not new to you if you have experienced masturbation," continued Snape. "Can anyone tell me what this word means? How about you, Potter?"

"I, uh…" Harry didn't know what to say. He could answer correctly, but that would be majorly embarrassing. He could answer wrong, or pretend he didn't know the answer, but that could result in losing House points. Malfoy and his cronies were the ones laughing this time, but of course Snape didn't tell _them_ to be quiet.

"Sometime _today,_ Mr. Potter?" Snape demanded.

Harry swallowed. That was Snape's most dangerous voice. This sort of thing wasn't hard for Harry to talk about if he was just with Sirius or his roommates. In a class full of all the boys in his year, plus Snape, things were different. But he didn't want to get expelled, either. Was this the worst class ever, or what?

"It's kind of like doing it with a girl, only to yourself instead," he said finally. More than anything else, he was still aware of the Slytherins laughing meanly.

"Next order of business. Longbottom!" Snape turned to Neville, who seemed to shrink away in fear. "Can you tell me something else that happens to a young wizard during puberty that will give him a similar result?"

Harry seriously doubted Neville would know the answer to that question, or any of the questions Snape asked. Neville was gripping the bottom of his chair so hard his knuckles were turning white. Harry pictured punching Snape with his father's dueling gloves, the way he'd done to Professor Quirrell last year.

"Oh, um…nothing?" Neville managed to say.

"Wrong! Ten points from Gryffindor." Snape then turned to Ron. "Weasley! Can you cover for Longbottom's incompetence?"

"No, I can't," said Ron coolly. "That's why my hand wasn't raised."

"That's twenty points lost, ten for your ignorance and ten for your smarting off!" Snape told him, his black eyes flashing. Ron was about to stand up in protest, but Harry pushed him down, because he didn't need it to be fifty. Besides, Hermione was probably earning Gryffindor plenty of points in the witches' class. "The answer, boys, is: nocturnal emissions, also known as wet dreams. Who can explain to me what this is?"

By now, half the class was snickering, giggling, or laughing outright, and the other half was looking embarrassed or confused. The problem with this class, it seemed, was that Snape was acting like everyone already knew the answers to his questions. It just so happened that Harry did know the answer this time, because of Sirius explaining it to him, but he wasn't about to raise his hand for anything.

"Thomas," said Snape, looking at Dean this time, "can _you_ define this phenomenon?"

"Yes," said Dean. "It's when you neglect your penis for too long and it decides to plot revenge."

This elicited a laugh from almost everyone in class except Snape. You could practically see the steam coming out of his ears.

"Detention, Thomas!" he shouted. "And if I hear one more giggle, I will have you all sent to the headmaster's office!"

That made everyone shut up in a hurry. Snape then proceeded to explain the process of ejaculation in the most unsexy way imaginable, so that something supposedly very pleasurable now sounded very cold and medical. When the bell rang, everyone charged towards the door like a herd of stampeding cows; Harry was lucky to make it out of there alive.

After the Our Changing Bodies class, there was a break before the next class (Charms) began. Harry, Ron and Neville headed to the Gryffindor common room to see if they couldn't work on their diagrams. Sirius was there sitting in an armchair in front of the fire, one hand in a bag of chips, legs crossed.

"So, how was Sex 101?" he asked them.

"The pits," said Ron. "Guess who our teacher is?"

"Who?"

"Snape!"

" _Snape?"_ Sirius looked shocked. "What does _he_ know about sex? Of all the teachers they could have picked…!"

"I know," Harry said glumly.

"So what did he do?" Sirius asked, his mouth full of potato chips. "Or should I ask?"

"Well, he made us fill out these horrible diagrams," said Ron, taking his out of his book bag and placing it on the table.

"Wow," said Sirius. "You know, I don't think that really belongs in a classroom."

"No, it doesn't," Neville agreed in a small voice. "But filling them out is our homework."

"So maybe you could help us," Harry added.

"Hmm, I don't know…" Sirius leaned over and peered a little closer at the paper. "This is really detailed, and I'm not exactly a doctor."

Harry couldn't quite believe it. "You mean you've had these body parts for almost thirty-three years, you're a father, and you _still_ don't know what they're called?"

"Hey, I _never_ took a sex education class," Sirius replied. "Most of what I know, I learned from my friends—or from some experimentation, of course."

"You mean sleeping with a bunch of girls," Harry said crossly.

"Yes, perhaps," said Sirius, nodding and looking through the word bank. "Now, let's see, uh…I think I know a few of these…"

Sirius told Harry, Ron and Neville what he could, and luckily his knowledge was a little better than their own. After that, by process of elimination, it was a little easier to guess. But guessing, at that point, was all they really _could_ do.

"This isn't going to get any easier for old Snivellus," Sirius commented, leaning back in his chair as the boys filled out the rest, varying their answers a little so it didn't look like they cheated. "How is he going to teach the unit on the female system?"

"We're going to learn _that?!"_ said Ron in disbelief.

"Well…sure." Sirius looked bewildered. "Why not?"

"Not from _Snape!"_ Neville bleated. "I'll be allergic! I'll get sick to my stomach! I'll—"

"Can't _you_ teach it, Sirius?" Harry begged him, cutting Neville off. "I mean, you must have learned something from that childbirth class, right? I saw you deliver a baby with my own eyes!"

"And he went through childbirth himself, remember," Ron said with a smirk.

"I really can't," Sirius told them. "I've already got my hands full, with my Defense class and my baby."

"But surely you would save your own godson and his friends from abject humiliation and awkwardness," Ron pointed out.

"It won't be that bad," Sirius told them. "The female system different than ours, but only awkward if you make it so. Now what else did you guys do? Just the diagrams?"

"No," Ron grumbled as he blotted his ink. "For almost all the rest of class, he had this awful picture—a _moving_ picture—of what happens when…you know, when you get aroused. It was pretty graphic."

Harry could see from the expression on Sirius's face that he was imagining it.

"But even though his class _technically_ could have been called informative, he didn't tell us things we actually want to know," Harry explained. "Like…when you get an erection, why does it always seem to be at the most embarrassing time and place possible? When is my voice going to stop cracking in public?"

"How do you get rid of morning wood?" said Ron, warming to the conversation. "When am I going to be able to grow a decent mustache?"

"And…and what if you have one of those wet dream things Snape talked about?" Neville added reluctantly. "If that happens to me, I don't want my gran to find out."

"I guess this is why Barbara's class had the question box," Sirius observed. "But listen, guys…I think you're right. I couldn't label that entire diagram for the life of me, but I can answer questions like yours." He paused and smiled slightly. "Those are things that happen to all of us at some point. It's just part of becoming a man. Part of _being_ a man."

"Well, tell us!" they said enthusiastically, but that was when the girls' class got back, and Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil caught sight of the boys' diagrams.

"Ooh, _look_ ," said Lavender, pointing, and the girls giggled as they walked past. Harry, Ron and Neville stuffed the drawings back into their bags as fast as lightning. Face burning hot, Harry knew the other two were just as embarrassed as he was.

"Hi," said Hermione, approaching the table, and Harry was especially glad then that his diagram was back in his bag. "What are you guys talking about?"

"School," said Ron. "How did the witches' class go?"

"Oh, it went great!" Hermione said enthusiastically. "I got so many points for Gryffindor!"

That was when Harry finally smiled.


	43. Halloween

As October continued, the school could talk of little else but Sirius's upcoming Halloween party, which he said would be an annual thing, but this year's party would make last year's look totally lame. Everyone in the school was invited, even Snape and his Slytherins, even though Harry didn't think they would show.

Dumbledore agreed to hold the party after the feast in the Great Hall, instead of in the dungeons. Regulus and Holly were invited (if they weren't still friends, they could always turn down the invitation) and, once Harry and Barbara insisted upon it, Remus and the Tonks family were invited, too. Barbara's parents had positively pounced on the chance to babysit Phoebe.

But just when Halloween had almost arrived and everything was arranged, the worst happened—Sirius came down sick with the flu. The day he went to the hospital wing, Harry, Barbara and Phoebe went to visit him, though Madame Pomfrey didn't let them get too close.

"Isn't there anything you can do for him?" Barbara pleaded as she held Phoebe at a safe distance.

"I can cure colds in a heartbeat, but the flu is a lot more complicated," the mediwitch told her as she brought some orange juice to Sirius's bedside. "I can certainly give him something to take the edge off, but he won't be better until after Halloween night. I certainly can't allow him to attend the party."

"But it's _his_ party," Harry protested. "It won't be the same without him."

"Just go, you guys," Sirius said weakly from his bed. "I don't want you to miss out on all the fun just because I'm not there."

…

On Halloween night, with Sirius still feeling poorly, Harry and everyone else decided to attend the party. Sirius's seat up at the High Table was empty, of course, and all their attending guests ate at their respective tables.

Everyone at the Slytherin table, it seemed, wanted to get a piece of Regulus. Either they wanted to hear what it was like living amongst the Muggles since 1979, or they wanted to hear what it was like growing up in the Black family. Even Draco Malfoy was chatting him up, probably trying to get tips on being a Slytherin Seeker. Andromeda Tonks was at the Slytherin table, too, talking and laughing with some of the girls.

The other two members of the Tonks family, along with Barbara, were sitting at the Hufflepuff table. Harry was sure the Hufflepuffs were questioning Barbara about being a Muggle, too, some of them, anyway. Barbara looked fascinated by everything around her (it was only last winter that she'd found out about Sirius's true identity) and she seemed to like her would-have-been Housemates. Since the Sorting Hat had literally been placed on her head last year and Sorted her into Hufflepuff, they knew she belonged with them.

Harry and the rest of the Gryffindors, meanwhile, were glad to get Remus sitting by them. Since the full moon had passed, they didn't need to worry about his PMS (Pre-Moon Syndrome).

"How are things going with you, Remus?" Harry asked. "Are you still in a fight with Sirius?"

"Well, I haven't had any letters from him like I did last year," Remus said mildly. "But I'm sure he'll come around."

"It must be hard for him, though," Harry mused. "I mean, he did take care of Tonks as a baby. If he sees her as a much younger sister, it might be weird seeing her with you."

"But he can't use the age difference as an excuse," Hermione put in. "There's the same number of years—thirteen—between Regulus and Holly."

"I thought they broke up," said Ron.

"She declined a proposal for marriage," Hermione corrected. "That doesn't necessarily mean they aren't still together. They're mature enough to be civil."

"Holly turned down a proposal?" Remus looked surprised.

"Yeah," said Ron glumly. "Sirius saw him returning the engagement ring at Garlock and Company around her birthday. It's really sad."

"They've only been seeing each other since the summer," Remus pointed out. "Maybe they just aren't ready. It's completely possible they'll get married at a later date."

Ron looked hopeful at that.

When the feast was over, Dumbledore used his wand to get rid of all the House tables. Sirius used a record player to play music, like last time, except since there were four times as many people and they were in a bigger place, he magically amplified it so it would be much louder. They were also going to have some karaoke, which Harry was definitely looking forward to. He just wished Sirius were here to sing "The Lion Sleeps Tonight" with him.

Harry was surprised when Regulus and Holly were the first ones to sign up for karaoke. They sang a song from _Phantom of the Opera_ called "All I Ask Of You," and they were good. Regulus even played piano for accompaniment. Andromeda sang, too, and played guitar.

When the record player was taking another turn, Harry approached Regulus at the refreshments table.

"You're doing a duet with Holly?" he said. "I thought she turned down your ring."

"Huh?" said Regulus.

"Sirius saw you returning your engagement ring at Garlock and Company," Harry explained.

"Oh… _that_ ," said Regulus, coloring slightly. "No, that's not it. I just…it doesn't seem to be the right time. Besides, I didn't like that ring much, anyway."

"Then why did you buy it?"

"There was no better one, at the time," he said back, and stuck a chocolate-covered strawberry into his mouth, so Harry couldn't ask him any more questions. But that didn't make sense. The ring was expensive, more expensive than Barbara's had been, even. If Sirius didn't buy his ring "off-the-rack," Harry highly doubted Regulus would, either. The only reason Regulus could _possibly_ have done this was because he had chickened out on proposing. Right? There was no other explanation for returning such a beautiful, expensive, custom-made engagement ring.

Harry wasn't confident enough to sing a karaoke song by himself, but he enjoyed all the other performances. He danced a lot with Hermione, which had become easier ever since the wedding and their first dance together. Neville looked too shy to dance with anyone, but Luna, whom Harry had met the summer before last, and Ron's sister Ginny were both dancing by themselves.

"Look at Daphne Greengrass," said Harry, pointing her out to Ron.

Daphne was apparently asking Draco to dance, even begging him, but he was distracted, his eyes on Astoria. His eyes were also on Holly; she basically looked the way Astoria would probably look in a few years, so it wasn't outlandish that he'd be attracted to her, too, even if she was a Gryffindor. As usual, Astoria paid Draco no mind.

"I'll never get tired of it." Ron laughed. "She obviously doesn't know he exists."

"Well, she knows he exists," Hermione said. "If her sister likes him, there's no way she couldn't know about him. But I don't think she likes him back."

When the party had been going strong for several hours, Harry, Ron and Hermione elected to visit Sirius in the hospital wing, maybe bring him some cupcakes (if he wasn't too sick to eat them). Barbara had baked some of the food for the party, of course, so she brought him some brownies, just like she had for Harry when he had the flu. She went along with them, as did Regulus.

"Hi, Sirius," said Harry, creaking open the door of the hospital wing. Madame Pomfrey had given Sirius something to keep him from vomiting and sneezing, which meant he was less contagious, so they were able to get a little closer. He was doing a lot better, and his fever had broken.

"Hey." Sirius smiled at them. "What, do I have my own pity party here?"

"We just thought we'd say hello," Barbara replied, blowing Sirius a kiss (according to Madame Pomfrey, it was still inadvisable to touch him).

"Glad to hear it," said Sirius. "How's the party coming along?"

"It's not the same without you," Harry said sincerely. "But then, nothing would be the same without you. Imagine if I hadn't run into you at the zoo that day."

"We still would have met," Sirius told him. "I was on my way to your house, remember."

"Well, imagine your appeal got turned down again."

"Then I suppose we wouldn't be here, having this conversation," Sirius replied.

"By the way," Barbara piped up, "as soon as you told me you were a wizard last winter, I wondered why you did your lawsuits in Muggle court. Why didn't you do it in wizard court instead? There's that thing you told me about…I can't remember the name, though."

"Wizengamot," Sirius supplied. "But that's not the sort of thing the Wizengamot would deal with. They usually prosecute magic-related offenses, like breaches of the Statute of Secrecy, or any use of Dark Magic—being a Death Eater carries an automatic life sentence. They do prosecute murder and rape, but other than that, probably 90% of crimes you see in there have to do with magic."

"What about theft?" Barbara continued.

"Depends on if you stole from a Muggle shop or a wizard shop," Hermione said, eager to show off her knowledge. "Of course, if you used magic to steal, you'd be tried before the full Wizengamot."

"I was confused, though, when you told me what happened to Harry," Barbara told him. "James Potter had a will. If Harry and his parents had been Muggles, Harry might have been placed in emergency foster care for the night, and his case would have been taken to family court, his father's will would have been the first thing the judge looked at, and Harry would have been sent to Sirius. Since Dumbledore didn't take Harry's case to court, he could have been charged with kidnapping, endangerment of a child and gross criminal negligence, especially after last year's events. He'd face a triple charge because Ron and Hermione were involved, too."

"How do you know all that?" said Ron, raising an eyebrow.

"I used to work for Mr. Glacier, remember?" Barbara shrugged. "I pick this stuff up. Plus, I really like courtroom dramas."

"The reason Dumbledore was free to do what he wished with Harry was because wizards don't have family court, no more than we have psychiatry," Sirius explained. "What happens to the children or parents during divorces is not left to the Wizengamot."

"You mean they just decide it among _themselves?"_ Barbara said in shock.

"Yep." Sirius nodded. "The only reason Dumbledore was able to take Harry is because nobody stopped him. I _tried_ to stop him, but I only wish I'd tried harder. There's no way a family court would have let Harry live with the Dursleys; in fact, that wouldn't even have been on the table, because they were estranged from the Potters and weren't on the will. But like I said, wizards don't have family court. We don't have divorce court, either."

"They have those things in America," Regulus said. "That is, since Wizarding America is more open-minded, MACUSA has adopted some No-Maj practices, including family court, divorce court, and a childcare wing of our main magical hospital. Dumbledore would never have been allowed to do what he did in the United States."

"Maybe Wizarding Britain will be like that someday, too," Sirius said, although he didn't sound very hopeful.

"It depends a lot on the Minister of Magic," said Hermione.

Nobody spoke for a moment, then Harry heard something that chilled his blood.

"… _rip…tear…kill…_ "

Harry was sure that voice he'd heard back in September was just his imagination playing tricks on him. But here it was again. He froze, ears primed for the sound. Nobody else appeared to have heard anything unusual. The voice was very, very faint, so quiet that Harry only heard it because the hospital wing was so silent, but then it became a little louder, as if it were moving upwards.

"… _so hungry…for so long…_ "

"Listen," said Harry, nudging Hermione, who was closest to him. Everyone perked to attention.

"Harry, I don't hear anything," Hermione began, and there were more mumblings of dissent, but Harry shook his head, trying to focus on the voice. The sound was getting closer and louder.

"… _kill…time to kill_ …"

Barely even thinking about where he was going or what he was doing, Harry burst out of the hospital wing. Barbara, Regulus, Ron and Hermione followed. Sirius, who was still not strong enough to leave his bed, let alone run anywhere, demanded to know where they were going, but nobody answered.

They had all stampeded down the staircase to the third floor, but the voice still came from the floor below. " _I smell blood…I SMELL BLOOD!"_

"It's going to kill someone!"

" _What_ is?" Barbara wheezed, barely able to keep up, but Harry shushed her.

It was like on those cop shows where a bunch of police follow a criminal running away. Everyone chased Harry around and around the second floor until they came to a long, dark, deserted hallway. About ten seconds later, Barbara caught up with them, clutching a stitch in her side, looking like she was about to pass out. Regulus lit his wand.

"Harry, what's going on?" he asked, a scrutinizing look on his face. But before Harry could explain, he heard Hermione's gasp.

"Look!"

She was pointing further down, out of the realm of Regulus's wandlight. They could barely see something glistening, paint, maybe, on the wall. They approached it, Regulus supporting Barbara, who was still quite winded.

"What _is_ that?" Hermione said quietly.

"The Chamber of Secrets has been opened," Regulus read, his voice low. "Enemies of the heir, beware…"

"What's that thing—hanging underneath?" Ron pointed, and they looked. They had to step carefully, because the floors were wet.

"It's Mrs. Norris!" Harry cried. But she looked dead—hanging from a torch bracket by her tail, she was stiff, like a corpse. "She's dead, you guys!"

Regulus squinted, holding his wand closer to the cat body. And then all the color left his face.

"No," he whispered. "She's been Petrified."


	44. Petrified

"Petrified?" said Harry. "What's that?"

"Dark Magic." Regulus's voice was still quiet. "It's a little like a coma, but a magically-induced one."

Harry realized that except for maybe Snape, Regulus probably knew more about the Dark Arts than anyone presently in the school. The two of them were the only ex-Death Eaters, after all.

"W-What are we going to do?" Barbara asked him. Harry could tell from the tone of her voice that she was terrified.

Regulus appeared to be thinking, but it didn't matter. The music in the Great Hall had suddenly stopped, and everyone knew without saying that the Halloween party was over. Everyone headed upstairs at once, chatting amongst each other, but they stopped and fell silent as they took in the scene at a glance.

"Enemies of the Heir, beware!" yelled a voice Harry recognized as Malfoy's. "You'll be next, Mudbloods!"

"Draco!" Regulus chastised him, but Malfoy just rolled his eyes. None of them were prefects or teachers, so he knew he wouldn't have points taken from Slytherin.

Things only got worse after that. Filch appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, and accused Harry of murdering Mrs. Norris. Harry tried to explain that she was only Petrified, but Filch didn't want to hear it. Before they knew it, Dumbledore had arrived, along with Snape, McGonagall, and Holly Greengrass. Dumbledore removed Mrs. Norris from the torch bracket and tucked her under his arm.

"Come with me, Argus." Dumbledore spoke to Filch, then to the rest of them. "You, too, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger."

"Where?" said Holly.

"Maybe…maybe Sirius's office?" Barbara's voice quaked. "I-I have a key."

"Very well," said Dumbledore. Harry, Ron and Hermione went with him, and all the other adults followed. Barbara, the sole Muggle in the building, only able to attend the party because of her special earrings, looked the same way she had last year when she learned what Inferi were—horrified beyond belief.

Barbara was wearing a Gothic witch dress, which Sirius had bought for her at Madam Malkin's. She dug around anxiously in her purse for her key to the Defense office, until finally Regulus took pity on her and used the Summoning Charm to get it. Since her hands were shaking so badly, he unlocked the door for her, too, and helped her inside.

"What happened?" Dumbledore asked, laying Mrs. Norris on Sirius's desk, which was rather reminiscent of his bathroom back home—his possessions were scattered everywhere, bottles of ink, quills, old parchment, empty cans of grape juice…It was a mess, but Dumbledore ignored it.

"She was Petrified, Professor," Regulus told him seriously. "I recognized her symptoms at once from my extensive studies of the Dark Arts."

Obviously, Regulus realized this was no time to be ashamed of his past.

"Did you see anything?" Professor McGonagall asked him sharply, raising an eyebrow.

"No." Regulus shook his head. "We encountered her after the fact, I'm afraid."

"Yeah, right!" Filch pointed at Harry. "I know he did it!"

"Don't be an idiot, Filch," said Holly, rolling her eyes. "Is it likely that _Harry Potter_ , of all people, is going to be practicing Dark Magic? What second year would be capable of Petrification?"

"If I might speak, Headmaster," Snape cut in, "Potter and the others may have simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time. But we do have a set of suspicious circumstances here. Why was he in the upstairs corridor at all? Why wasn't he at the Halloween feast?"

"We were visiting Sirius in the hospital wing," Regulus told him shortly. Harry noticed how stony his expression had been throughout all of this.

But Snape just wouldn't quit.

"Why not go back to the party afterwards?" he sneered. "Why hang around this corridor? I hear it was the party of the year."

"Most likely, they _were_ on their way back to the party, Severus," Professor McGonagall told him. "They were just in the wrong place at the wrong time, like you said."

"Yeah, that's it," Harry said quickly. He didn't want anyone to know he was hearing voices.

"I suggest, Headmaster, that Potter is not being entirely truthful," said Snape. "It might be a good idea if he were deprived of certain privileges until he is ready to tell us the whole story. I personally feel he should be taken off the Gryffindor Quidditch team until he is ready to be honest."

"Rubbish," said Holly snarkily. "You just want him off the team because you're scared he'll beat Slytherin at Quidditch again. How pathetic can you _get?"_

"Twenty points from Gryffindor, Miss Greengrass!" Snape snapped at her.

"You can't take points from me anymore, Snivellus," she said back. "I'm graduated."

There was no doubt Holly was enjoying this new development, but there were more pressing things to worry about at the moment.

"Innocent until proven guilty, Severus," Dumbledore insisted. Harry felt relieved. It was a good thing they had Regulus and Barbara as witnesses, even though Barbara looked Petrified herself.

"My cat has been Petrified!" Filch reminded everyone. "I want to see some _punishment!"_

"We will be able to cure her, Argus," Dumbledore told him. "Professor Sprout recently managed to procure some Mandrakes. As soon as they have reached their full size, I will have a potion made that will revive Mrs. Norris." He gestured to everyone except Snape and McGonagall. "You may go."

"Thank you, Professor," Regulus said calmly, guiding Barbara out of the room. Holly, Barbara, Harry, Ron and Hermione followed.

"So what _really_ happened?" Holly asked, her olive-green eyes wide. "Did you guys see anything?"

"We really didn't, Holly," Harry said. "I mean, we didn't see what got her."

"Listen, I'm going to take Barbara to the hospital wing and get her a Calming Drought," Regulus told them. "I'll fill Sirius in on what happened, too. Then I'll head back to London with the others."

"I'll go back to my flat in Hogsmeade," Holly added.

"I-I might need to spend the night in the hospital wing," Barbara said dazedly. "Reg, as long as you're in London…will you…"

"Will I tell your parents they've got Phoebe for the night?" Regulus finished. "Of course. I'm sure they'll be pleased." Then he turned to Harry, Ron and Hermione. "You three, get to bed. It's almost midnight, and you've got class tomorrow."

"Sure," Harry said quickly.

Regulus headed up to the hospital wing, still gripping Barbara's arm. Holly went up to the third floor, supposedly because Sirius had told _her_ about the shortcut, too. Harry, Ron and Hermione were left alone. They slowly walked up to Gryffindor tower, trying to process what just happened.

"D'you think I should have told them about that voice I heard?" Harry asked as they trudged along.

"No," Ron told him firmly. "Hearing voices no one else can hear isn't a good sign, even in the Wizarding world."

"You do believe me, don't you?"

"Course I do. But—you must admit it's weird…"

"If there was any secret chamber, Sirius and my dad would have found it," Harry said. Then he added confidently, "If it's not on the Marauder's Map, it's not in the school."

"But then how did Mrs. Norris get Petrified?" Hermione insisted.

"I don't know," said Harry. "Like Holly said, what student could do that?"

But neither Ron nor Hermione had an answer. They spent the rest of the walk to Gryffindor Tower in silence, and it was hours before Harry finally fell asleep that night.

…

Sirius recovered from the flu shortly after, and managed to get back to teaching (Dumbledore had been teaching Defense class in his absence). But nobody was talking about Sirius's classes, or even Snape's Our Changing Bodies class, which had become a weekly nightmare for all the second-year boys. Everyone was talking about the Chamber of Secrets.

Barbara was not exactly doing very well. It occurred to Harry that this was the first Dark Magic she'd seen up close, and she was terrified. Sirius reminded her that it could be reversed, and that it was just Mrs. Norris, anyway, but she didn't seem to care.

On the way to Defense class a few days later, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were discussing it, too.

"I wish I knew what the Chamber of Secrets was," Harry lamented, to nobody in particular.

"We all do," Hermione said. "Ron, do you know anything about it?"

"Bill told me a story about a hidden chamber at Hogwarts once, I think," he said, "but I was really young. I don't remember much of it."

They entered the classroom and sat down, waiting to hear what Sirius was going to teach them today.

"All right, everyone," said Sirius, putting his hands on his hips, his robes flowing around him, steely-gray to match his eyes. "Can anyone tell me what the _Fumos_ Charm does?"

Nobody was surprised when Hermione raised her hand.

"Yes, Hermione?" said Sirius.

"It's the smokescreen charm, Sirius," Hermione replied. "But do you mind if I ask you a question?"

Sirius looked a little bewildered, but he nodded.

"You're the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor," Hermione continued. "Do you know anything about the Chamber of Secrets?"

Everyone else in class stared at her in shock. But Sirius looked pensive.

"I don't need to be the Defense teacher to have heard about that," he said slowly. "Everyone on the Sacred 28 list grew up hearing about it. But, while believable, it's just a stupid made-up story that needs to die."

"What do you mean, believable?" Hermione asked.

"I mean, I think it's perfectly reasonable that Slytherin would try and pull something like that, knowing him," Sirius explained, "but it's simply not true."

Everyone was on the edges of their seats now. Sirius sighed.

"If you don't hear it from me, I suppose you'll hear it from someone else," he muttered, resigning himself to telling the story. "You guys all know Hogwarts was founded about a thousand years ago, right?"

They all nodded.

"Well, back before they had the Sorting Hat, the four founders would hand-pick all the students they wanted for their Houses," Sirius continued. "But Slytherin only wanted to educate pureblood students…not a particularly unpopular view, then or ever." Sirius rolled his eyes. "So Slytherin threw a huge stink about it and left.

"That you can look up in any magical history book," Sirius told them. "But after that is where the legend of the Chamber of Secrets begins." He tapped on his unshaven chin a little. "Apparently, Slytherin was _sooo_ pissed off at the other three that he built a secret chamber in the school, and that he sealed it so that it could only be opened by his true heir—that is, someone who can trace his ancestry back to Salazar Slytherin.

"The reason Slytherin built this chamber was supposedly because there was a horrible monster inside, which only the Heir could control," Sirius said. "And the Heir would use the monster to kill all the students from non-magical families, just so old Salazar could have his way. The school would be all pure-blood."

Sirius looked around the room, his arms crossed.

"It's not _true_ , you know," he told them. "Like I said, it's just a story. Lots of wizards and witches have searched the school for the Chamber of Secrets, and none have ever been able to find it. And you forget who you're talking to. I know more about the school than _anyone_ , I have a Map to prove it, and if there was a Chamber, I would have found it back in my day….or perhaps I just haven't looked hard enough," he finished sarcastically.

"But _you_ don't have Slytherin blood, do you, Sirius?" piped up Seamus Finnigan.

"It's doubtful," said Sirius. "In a Sacred 28 family, see, they make you study your lineage so you know exactly where you came from and who you're related to. I can trace my bloodline back to a bunch of old families, but nobody in the Black family ever married a Gaunt…thank God." He shuddered involuntarily.

"So maybe the only reason you didn't find it was because you aren't related to Slytherin," Parvati Patil suggested.

"Well, in that case I sincerely hope it doesn't get found," Sirius said shortly. "Now, can we _please_ get to the Smokescreen Charm?"

And they did. Harry partnered with Hermione, like usual, but it seemed he had an affinity for combating the Dark Arts, because the two of them were evenly matched.

Harry might have been imagining it, but he thought he saw Sirius's gaze flicker in his direction just a bit more than everyone else. And then he had a chilling thought. _He_ was the Heir of Slytherin! Wasn't that what Sirius said when he learned Harry was a Parselmouth? Well, _technically_ Sirius said that someone from the Gaunt family must have married into the Potter family, but still, that meant Harry had Slytherin blood. It would explain the Parseltongue thing, at least.

So after class, Harry hung back to talk to Sirius, the way he often had during Sirius's Care of Magical Creatures classes last year.

"Hey, Sirius," he said. "Good lesson."

"Thanks," Sirius replied. "You're good at this subject."

"Listen," said Harry, getting right to the point. "You said only the Heir of Slytherin can open the Chamber of Secrets, right?"

"No, I did _not_ say that," said Sirius. "I said it isn't true. Just a story invented by pure-bloods, told on sleepovers to freak each other out."

"Well, isn't it true?" Harry insisted. "If I can speak Parseltongue, and only Salazar Slytherin was known for that, doesn't that make _me_ the Heir of Slytherin?"

"Why does it matter?" Sirius asked. "There is no Chamber of Secrets. Some idiot probably wrote that as a joke."

"Threatening Muggle-borns isn't exactly a joke," said Harry. "And if it _was_ just a joke, how do you explain what happened to Mrs. Norris? Holly said no second-year could do that. It had to be Slytherin's monster."

Sirius frowned; Mrs. Norris's predicament was rather hard to explain away.

"Sometimes I don't have all the answers, Harry," he said finally. "But I do know it wasn't you."

With that he squeezed Harry's shoulder, and left the room.


	45. Slytherin's Secret

Sirius remained tight-lipped on the subject of the Chamber of Secrets, and Harry could tell it would be useless to try and get anything out of him. But Harry, Ron and Hermione just didn't buy that Mrs. Norris randomly got herself into what was basically a magically-induced coma, and they weren't sure Sirius did, either. There was something much more sinister at work.

One November night, they invited Regulus to have a pizza party with them in the Gryffindor common room. They picked a weekend where Sirius was staying with Barbara and Phoebe, which he was doing more often due to the fact that Barbara was majorly freaking out. Their excuse was that they liked pizza, and they thought Regulus might like to see what the Gryffindor common room looked like, but in reality, they thought he might know a little bit more about the Chamber of Secrets than Sirius did, or at least be more willing to tell.

When Regulus came to visit Hogwarts, he often brought Kreacher with him, and that was what happened tonight. He brought enough pizza for the whole of Gryffindor House, and Kreacher helped serve pizza while Regulus sat with Harry and his friends by the fire.

"Thanks for inviting me," he said, looking around. "This is very nice. The Slytherin common room does get a bit cold during the winter."

"You're welcome," said Harry, hoping he would ask if there was any news about the Chamber of Secrets. When he didn't, Harry added, "It's been crazy here ever since Filch's cat got Petrified."

"We were pretty amazed that you knew what was wrong with her immediately," Hermione added flatteringly.

"It's nothing to be impressed over," Regulus told her. "I just spent a good amount of my teen years studying up on the Dark Arts and dreaming about becoming a Death Eater. When I was branded with the Dark Mark…well, they might as well have given me a billion Galleons."

"But if you knew what Petrification was, you must _also_ know the legend of the Chamber of Secrets," Harry prodded him.

"Nobody _here_ knows?" Regulus asked skeptically.

"We asked Sirius," Ron said. "But he didn't seem to know that much."

"Also, he doesn't think it's real," Harry added. "He seemed annoyed we would believe it, but I thought he was being a little defensive. Do you think he was lying to us?"

"Oh, I doubt it," said Regulus. "That is to say, he probably really does believe it doesn't exist, like most of our kind."

"So it does?" all three of them yelped at once.

"Did I say that?" Regulus said calmly.

"Yeah, basically," said Ron. "Come on! Nobody tells us anything!"

"Okay…fine." Regulus looked like he was doing this against his better judgment. "Yes, the Chamber of Secrets is real."

"How do you know?" Hermione whispered.

"I read about it in a book called _Secrets of the Darkest Art_ ," Regulus said, a little uncomfortably. "We have it in our family library."

"Oh yeah, I remember that book," said Harry. "I was reading it when I was staying with you at Black Manor."

"Why?" Regulus demanded.

"I just was kind of browsing through the table of contents, and I noticed there was a chapter on Horcruxes, which you mentioned last summer," Harry explained. "So I turned to it and read about them."

" _All_ of it?" Regulus looked a little horrified. "Like, how to make them and everything? Harry, you shouldn't be reading—"

"I wasn't," Harry told him. "I just wanted to know how to destroy them, not make them, and it didn't say a lot about it, so I put the book back after that."

"Good." Regulus looked relieved. "Because you saw what the tagline of that book was, didn't you, Harry?"

"Yes," said Harry. "It was 'Everything They Don't Tell You.'"

"That's right," Regulus said, nodding. "Anyway, I guess you may not have been looking closely enough at the table of contents, because there's also a chapter on the Chamber of Secrets in that book. It tells about it in detail. Sometimes I wonder if they took the words from Slytherin himself."

"Sirius said the Chamber has a monster inside, and only the Heir can control it," Harry said. "Is that true?"

"Yes," said Regulus, "and only the Heir can open the Chamber and access it. That's because you have to have a certain ability, something that only someone with Slytherin blood could have…"

Regulus raised his eyebrows twice, and all three knew what he was talking about.

"But…but…" Harry tried to keep his voice quiet, so nobody would hear him. "Doesn't that mean _I'm_ …?"

"There's no way you can be the Heir of Slytherin, Harry, because this isn't the first time it's been opened," Regulus said simply.

"It's been opened _before?"_ said Harry in shock. "When?"

"Fifty years ago," Regulus told them, his face looking unusually ominous in the flickering firelight, "the Chamber of Secrets was opened by the Heir of Slytherin, and Slytherin's monster _killed_ a girl. That's what the book said, anyway."

"But if the Heir of Slytherin went to school here fifty years ago, how could he be the one doing it now?" Hermione asked reasonably. "He'd have graduated."

"It could be Malfoy!" Ron said excitedly. "Draco Malfoy, I mean. He's the one opening it now, and his father opened it fifty years ago."

"Lucius Malfoy is too young to have opened it in his day," said Regulus, shaking his head. "I was at school with him for a few years. Whoever opened it is in their sixties now, and Lucius is still in his thirties."

"I know!" said Harry on a sudden inspiration. "It was probably Malfoy's grandfather! His father couldn't open the Chamber for whatever reason during his school days. Maybe he was too afraid of getting caught. But Malfoy's grandfather is probably in his sixties now, and _he_ must have been the one to do it."

"Well…maybe," said Regulus hesitantly. "I've never met Abraxas Malfoy. But you have to understand, we mustn't start jumping to conclusions."

"Regulus, if I'm not related to…to _him_ , how do you explain my 'ability'?" Harry whispered pointedly, leaning in so only his friends could hear. "Sirius said someone from the Gaunt line must have married into the Potter line, and I know the Gaunts are direct descendants of Slytherin. And—and you said, Regulus…that _Voldemort_ was related to the Gaunts through Slytherin, and that _he_ was a Parselmouth."

"It's not him, I'm _sure_ of it." Regulus looked flustered, rubbing the inside of his left arm. "Because…because I have a way of knowing if he's around. If—if you know what I mean…"

It was so hard to figure out. The Gaunt family died out with Merope Gaunt, that was what the book said. Even though Harry was a Parselmouth, he hadn't attacked Mrs. Norris, and he hadn't even heard of the Chamber of Secrets before this year. Malfoy had never showed any signs of being a Parselmouth; wouldn't he be bragging about it all the time if he was? Or maybe it skipped over him, the same way it supposedly skipped over Harry's father and possibly his grandfather? Why were Harry, his father, _and_ his father's father all in Gryffindor if they all had Slytherin blood? Why would someone from a family like the Gaunts marry a Potter? And why on Earth wasn't the Gaunt-Potter marriage in that _Nature's Nobility_ book?

But then something unpleasant rose to the surface of his mind…other words Sirius had said…

" _You see, the Potters were pretty much the first Reformed family there ever was. I'm sure you can imagine how the other pureblood families felt about that. So they were never added to the Sacred 28—or to that book."_

Then it all made sense. Harry was left out of the book for the same reason Voldemort was. That "Gaunt-Potter marriage" was no marriage. Merope Gaunt, a pureblood witch, was never married, but she conceived an illegitimate baby with a Muggle man. Sirius had called that "taboo," and that was why her secret baby wasn't in the book. If a pureblood witch having a Muggle's baby was taboo, certainly having the baby of a blood traitor like a Potter must be, too. Sirius had told Harry about the consequences of having a taboo baby back in those days. Whoever it was would be shamed by everyone, and think of what the babies faced. Kidnap and torture at the hands of a pureblood relative…even infanticide. No wonder such things were kept secret!

Maybe it wasn't even Fleamont. What if it was Euphemia, Harry's pureblood grandmother? What if _she_ was a descendant of the Gaunt family, not Fleamont? What if Morfin had a child nobody knew about, too? Or what if Merope had another? What if Merope and Morfin had a lost half-sibling?

It was all so clear. The ability to speak to snakes had skipped over James, but one of his parents had been a relative of Slytherin without even knowing it. However…

"The Malfoys being related to the Gaunts isn't taboo," Harry said out loud. "I'm sure they were _glad_ to unite their dynasties or whatever. The ability must have skipped over Malfoy, that's all. I'm sure he's all disappointed."

"You're right, Harry," Regulus said quietly. "Just because you're related to Slytherin doesn't mean Draco can't be, too. We know he's related through Lucius, though, because I know for a fact that nobody in the Black family ever bred with the Gaunts."

 _You can't be so sure of that_ , Harry thought, but then again, there was no reason for the Gaunts _or_ the Blacks to hide such a thing.

"Hey, guys!"

The four of them were jerked out of their conversation by the arrival of Holly Greengrass. She plopped into Regulus's lap. Even if he had supposedly chickened out on his proposal (why else would he return such an expensive, beautiful diamond ring?), they were obviously still together and happy.

"Hello, Holly," Regulus replied, giving her a kind smile.

"Guess what," Holly said cheerfully. "I've got a teaching position here now!"

"You're teaching?" Regulus looked surprised. "What subject?"

"Well, Dumbledore decided Snape was a little unqualified to teach the next unit of the 'Our Changing Bodies' class," Holly said with a grin. "So now I'm in charge."

Harry and Ron looked at each other in spasms of shock. Holly, known last year as the hottest girl in the Class of 1992, wouldn't be as bad as Snape when it came to this class. She would be worse.


	46. Holly's Classroom

Harry discovered, during the last week of November, that one of the most embarrassing things that could happen to a boy his age was taking a sex ed class taught by a beautiful young woman who had no qualms whatsoever about discussing her "female parts," two of which were constantly on display for everyone to stare at—"everyone" meaning, of course, the boys.

"D'you think we should tell Neville that we have a hot lady teacher now?" Ron asked Harry as they walked to the first day of Holly's sex ed class. "I don't think he could stand it."

"Well, he's really terrified of Snape," Harry pointed out. "Don't you think he'd be relieved?"

" _We_ weren't," said Ron. "I mean, if he sees Holly Greengrass when he's expecting our greasy Potions Master, the shock will kill him."

"What about you?" Harry asked, suddenly teasing. "Don't _you_ like Holly?"

"Me! Yeah right." Ron had never openly admitted to having a crush on Holly, but it was pretty clear, especially judging by how his face had almost turned purple when she hugged him at the end-of-year feast last year.

They ended up deciding not to clue Neville in; after all, he hadn't known about Snape until he got to the classroom in October, and he had survived that.

When Harry and Ron finally arrived at the spare classroom being used for Our Changing Bodies, still wondering why exactly they even needed to learn about the female "system," they saw that Holly had beaten them there. She was sitting on her desk, legs crossed, wearing black ankle boots, tight jeans and a scarlet-red T-shirt, which read, in gold letters, "I Have the Tits, I Make the Rules." She was wearing a long-sleeved white shirt underneath.

Harry noticed that her knees and shins were tightly together and crossed at the ankles (the "Cambridge Cross"), which, according to Andromeda Tonks, was one of the two ways proper ladies were allowed to sit. The other was to slant your legs to one side (the "Duchess Slant"), which, she said, was way more uncomfortable than ankle-crossing. Barbara sometimes crossed her legs at the ankles, but it was usually at her knees. Leg-crossing was the only way you _could_ sit, in a dress.

"Good morning, class," Holly said, looking around at everyone and smiling.

Nobody really answered. Most of her students were biting their lips, their nails, rubbing their eyes, putting their hands up against their faces because everything felt so warm all of a sudden. Several of them were holding textbooks or bags in front of their pants, looking anxious beyond belief.

"I'm sure you're all wondering what we're going to do today," Holly said conversationally, getting down from the desk, gliding, actually, and grabbing a stack of papers out of one of the drawers.

The class groaned, and some boy in the back cried, "Not _another_ quiz!"

"It's important to take tests, to show what you know," Holly said serenely. "This _will_ be graded, so make sure you try your hardest."

Harry was nervous. Would the things he'd learned during Barbara's pregnancy help him out here?

As it turned out, they didn't. Not much, anyway. Luckily, Holly hadn't gone out of her way to make the diagram complicated (unlike Snape). There were blanks and a word bank, like last time, but there were only thirteen blanks. So that was good, except Harry couldn't label a single one of them. In fact, most of the words he didn't even know. He had to basically guess at where the vagina was, and he was pretty sure he'd heard Barbara say "uterus" before, but for the life of him he could not find it.

Obviously, he wasn't the only one struggling. In fact, he probably knew the most out of the class, because of Barbara and Phoebe, and the fact that he had watched a baby being born. But everyone else seemed to be doing horribly. Ron was clutching the bottom of his desk chair, as if about to blast off, and Neville looked like he was going to pass out. Even Malfoy, Harry was delighted to see, was biting his lip and tapping his quill pen on the desk. Part of the problem, for Malfoy, was that Holly was essentially an older, more developed version of the girl he liked, Astoria, and Harry was sure Malfoy was wondering what his father would say if he knew he found Holly, a blood-traitor Gryffindor, attractive. _Nobody_ looked like they knew what they were trying to label.

Holly called time after about fifteen minutes, and she raised her perfectly-shaped eyebrows.

"Pretty much what I expected," she said, shrugging. "Most of you couldn't label a single one of these parts, even with a word bank. That's why the test wasn't graded."

"But you said it _was_ graded!" Neville blurted out, almost hysterically.

"That's because I knew if I told you it wasn't, you wouldn't have tried your hardest," Holly explained. "Did you honestly think I expected _any_ of you to pass this? I don't expect you to fill it out for homework, but we're going to label the parts today, and have a real test later on in the unit."

Everyone groaned again. Holly started to pass back the papers, then went to the easel.

"Stop complaining," she said, and opened up a diagram that looked just like the one on their papers. There were blanks to fill out, too, and the same word bank. "All right…I'm going to explain each of the parts and what they do, and you write them down on your diagram. Okay?"

There were a few quiet murmurs of assent. Holly rolled her eyes. The picture on the easel, luckily, wasn't a graphic moving one like Snape's. It was just a diagram like the one on the paper, except it also showed where the parts were on a lady. It was also probably the first time any of them had seen naked breasts, even if they were just a black-and-white drawing. It suddenly occurred to Harry that almost all of the women and girls he knew were walking around with these organs all tucked up inside them, and he never knew, or really thought about it at all.

"Who can tell me where a baby grows?" Holly continued, staring around at the class. "Don't make me call on someone."

"Your stomach?" said the Hufflepuff boy from Herbology, Justin Flinch-Fletchley.

"No, your stomach is where food goes," Holly said matter-of-factly. "Anyone else? Come on, it's not that hard. _Think_ about it."

Harry wanted this to be over more than anything, so he just said quietly, "Vagina…?"

Everyone turned and stared at him, eyes wide, but Holly gave him a sunny smile.

"Close, Harry, very close," she said, although Harry was sure she was just glad _someone_ had dared to answer. "Take ten points for Gryffindor. The vagina is where the baby comes _out_ , but it _lives_ inside the uterus." She pointed at the diagram. "Start labeling, boys: This is where the uterus is, and where the baby grows."

"There's no way it can grow inside of _there_ ," said one of the boys doubtfully. "It's way too small to fit a baby."

"Well, it can stretch," she explained. "Usually it's the size of an orange. But when a woman is pregnant, it can grow to the size of a watermelon. So you see…" She flipped to another page, and this time the woman was fully pregnant. "The baby leaves the uterus, passes through the cervix here, and comes out the vagina, which is right here. But we're getting ahead of ourselves; I teach about pregnancy later.

"There some parts you have in common with women," she continued, "like a posterior, for want of a better word, and a bladder. Number Two comes out the same place. But who knows where the pee comes out?"

This time, several people said, "Vagina," more confidently, in fact, than they had thought about a place where an unborn baby lived.

" _Think_ about it," Holly said again, looking a little exasperated as she flipped her chestnut-brown hair over her shoulder. "Does that make one bit of sense? The bladder is _here_ …and the vagina is _here_. They're not even connected. It comes out of the urethra, just like with you, except for women, the urethra is _here_ …" She pointed to all of the parts in succession. "The vagina is right between the other two. How many sexual openings does a woman have?"

"Three!" blurted out one boy in the back.

"One," Holly corrected him. "The other two aren't sexual. By the way—next time someone calls you a pussy, tell him thank you, because it's probably one of the strongest organs there is. Not only does it have babies, but it has _sex_ —and something else, too, which we'll learn about later…Most of all, anyway, we know female is the superior gender."

Most of the boys looked offended, but after all, Sirius had called women "the fairer sex," so who knew?

Holly continued to explain what everything was and what it did, all the while looking as beautiful as she always did. The most embarrassing part was when she was getting to the organs that _were_ purely sexual, but that was when the bell rang, signaling the usual stampede out the door.

"Very good, class," Holly said. "Next time, we'll be discussing this subject more in depth. Extra credit: fill out the rest of the form and the stuff we didn't get to."

…

After sex ed class always came a break and then Charms class. The witches' class would usually let out a little later, for which Harry, Ron and Neville were thankful, because this was the sort of thing they'd prefer to discuss without female company. Sirius was in the common room again, but Barbara was, too, holding Phoebe in her arms.

"Hi," she said, smiling. "How's Holly as a teacher? Is she any better than Snape?"

"It's kind of awkward discussing this sort of thing in a coed environment," Harry admitted. "I mean, not that Snape _isn't_ awkward, but Holly…"

"Someday, whoever you marry, you'll be talking with your wife about this, I guarantee it." Barbara shrugged and smiled at Sirius, who smiled back and squeezed her hand. "The person you love is your best friend, and a best friend is someone you can share _anything_ with."

Harry smiled at Ron, his best friend. There were certain things he could talk about with Ron and not Hermione, but again, a lot of those were things he felt he couldn't discuss if there was a "lady present," as Mrs. Willis put it. The other, of course, was Quidditch, because Hermione kind of had a fear of flying. But Harry could live with that.

"Anyway, what's your homework this time?" Sirius asked. "More diagrams to label?"

"Well, sort of," Harry told him. "Holly didn't expect us to know anything, so finishing off the diagrams is extra credit, but I don't know what to—"

"Oh, give me that," Barbara interrupted, handing Phoebe to Sirius and snatching Harry's diagram out of his hands.

Harry was sure Holly would recognize that the handwriting wasn't his, but he also had the feeling she would probably let it slide, because she wanted Gryffindor to win the House Cup, and Harry would get points for extra credit. Besides, had she _said_ he couldn't get help? The point was that he _learned_ , right?

After Barbara had filled out everything Holly hadn't had time to go over, and Neville and Ron had copied it down, they all sat in front of the fire, talking and waiting for the girls to come back.

"Did you ever feel there was something you couldn't ask?" said Harry, turning to Barbara. "I mean, not even in the question box?"

"It was anonymous, so that helped," she reminded him. "I mean, if everyone else laughed at your question—even the teacher laughed at a few—you had to pretend you weren't the one who asked it, you know, try to laugh along with them. But you never had to be embarrassed, because nobody would know it was you unless you told them."

"Which one did the _teacher_ laugh at?" asked Sirius.

"One girl asked if you could get pregnant if you kissed a boy with bad breath…as opposed to one with minty-fresh," Barbara replied, laughing. "So the teacher had to say, you didn't get pregnant from kissing at all. Then there was another one who asked if you could get pregnant from a toilet seat."

Sirius snorted with laughter.

"Every girl at our school was terrified of getting pregnant," Barbara explained. "The teacher made it seem like the apocalypse or something. I guess they didn't want any more teen mothers, but I don't think scaring us was the answer."

That was when the witches' class came back. As usual, all the second-year Gryffindor girls walked into the common room, Hermione trailing behind them, reading a book.

"So, Hermione," said Barbara with a grin, "how do you enjoy learning about the male system?"

"We're not on that yet," Hermione replied, closing the book and putting it back in her bag. "We're still finishing up the female unit."

"Did they make you fill out a diagram?" asked Ron.

"Yeah, they're making us fill out diagrams, but some of this is stuff we already know," Hermione said, sitting around the table in between Harry and Ron. Barbara and Sirius were in the chairs, and Harry, Ron, Hermione and Neville were kneeling on the floor around the table.

"Sometimes you learn it on your own first." Barbara nodded knowingly.

"But you've never had…" Harry began, but then he shut up.

"That's not what she meant," said Hermione, but nobody clarified what Barbara _had_ meant.

…

Harry slept peacefully that night, but he was woken in the morning by a kind of shriek coming from the direction of Neville's bed. When he blearily opened his eyes, his vision still fuzzy, he saw that Ron was sleeping and Seamus was absent (he had an Early Bird class that day). He didn't know where Dean had gotten to.

"What is it?" Harry mumbled, fumbling for his glasses on the nightstand, but he didn't get them. That happened a lot. Usually, he needed his glasses to find his glasses.

"Harry? Uh…" Neville turned to Harry. "I think…I think I had one of those things Snape told us about. The night emissions thing."

"So?" hissed Harry, a little irritated at being woken up too early.

"What do I _do?"_

"Take a shower."

"I _can't_. Dean's in there."

It seemed like when you lived in a dorm with four other people, someone _always_ seemed to be in the bathroom, especially when you needed it most. Still, it was better than living in a house with a screaming newborn just down the hall.

"Well, I don't know, then," said Harry. "I guess you'll just have to wait. Can you please get me my glasses?"

Neville picked up Harry's glasses and placed them in his outstretched hand.

"I'll have to go to class like this," he lamented, "and I'll probably smell bad all day. I'll get a rash, and I won't know how to heal it, and I'll have to go to the hospital wing and die of embarrassment."

" _Reparo_ ," Ron mumbled from his bed.

"Huh?" said Harry.

"I think you can heal ailments that way," Ron clarified sleepily.

" _Reparo_ doesn't help," Harry told him. "I know because Phoebe had diaper rash over the summer, and I told Sirius to use _Reparo_ , and Sirius said using _Reparo_ on skin irritations only makes it worse tenfold."

"Great! Just great!" Neville sunk miserably back onto his bed and said quietly, "At times like this, I really wish I had my dad."

There was a very awkward silence. Harry and Ron had never heard Neville talk about his parents before. They weren't in the picture, and Harry had always assumed Voldemort killed them, just like he killed Harry's parents and Sirius's ex-girlfriend, Marlene McKinnon. Harry knew that if somebody asked him what happened to his parents, he wouldn't like it, and that was why he never asked Neville.

"If you want a dad, Neville, you can always borrow mine," Ron said finally.

"Especially if Ron is in trouble," Harry added.

"No good. It's usually Mum who shouts, not Dad."

"Listen, just hang back and we'll save some food for you at breakfast," Harry told him. "You should still be able to make it to class on time."

"What if it happens on Christmas or over the summer, though? What if Gran finds out…?"

"Like I said, so what?" said Harry. "She probably won't even think twice about it."

"Remember what Sirius told us?" Ron added. "It's just part of beinga man, he said."

That seemed to make Neville feel a little better. They just chewed on that thought for a little, wondering how time moved so fast.


	47. Showdown

Harry already knew from last summer's Quidditch match at the Black Family Reunion that just because Malfoy had a better broom didn't guarantee him a win. And at that party, they had plenty of good players on the Slytherin team, including Regulus and Cassiopeia, who used to be a Keeper in her day. On the other hand, this time there was no Sirius playing for Gryffindor to aim a Quaffle at Malfoy.

As it turned out, Harry and the other Gryffindors won the game, although at the price of Harry breaking his arm. They went straight to the hospital wing, and Harry had a fully functioning arm again within the hour.

It was only the next day that they heard.

When everyone came down (or up, if you were a Slytherin or Hufflepuff) to breakfast the next day, they noticed that all the teachers looked extremely grim, even Sirius. Before the food appeared on the table, Dumbledore stood up.

"I'm afraid I have some rather unfortunate news," he said. "Whoever—or _whatever_ —harmed Mrs. Norris has struck again. This time a student has been attacked; a first-year named Colin Creevey."

Harry remembered Colin Creevey. Colin was, essentially, Harry's stalker. He had even taken pictures of him lying in the mud with a broken arm yesterday; he must have been Petrified overnight. Even though Harry _did_ find Colin annoying, and he _had_ wished, many a time, that Colin would get off his back, he never would have wanted it to happen this way. Not even Colin deserved that.

"That just _proves_ it," Ron said disgustedly. "Colin is a Muggle-born. Malfoy is going after the Muggle-borns, just like his grandfather did back in the day."

"Yeah, I believe it," Harry agreed. "It's just a good thing Lucius Malfoy never opened the Chamber of Secrets…otherwise it might have been my mother who was Petrified."

"It wasn't Malfoy," they heard someone say. It was Ron's brother, Fred. George, his twin, nodded.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked. "How do you know?"

"We were out that night," George explained. "We were trying to sneak some food from the kitchens when we saw Malfoy coming out of the Slytherin common room. It was suspicious, you know, since we figured it was him, too."

"So we decided to follow him, always at a safe distance," Fred continued. "I don't know where he thought he was going, but about half-past, we heard running footsteps, this huge commotion upstairs, and we ran after him, up several staircases. He ducked out of sight so the teachers there couldn't see him, but the three of us all saw it—Colin, who was Petrified. It couldn't have been him. Believe it or not, he has a rock-solid alibi."

"Well…when was Colin last seen in the Gryffindor common room?" Ron asked hopefully. "Malfoy could have attacked him right after dinner, couldn't he?"

"No," said Harry miserably. "Colin was on my case all last evening, asking me about the Quidditch match and asking how it felt to break a bone and then have it magically healed. He only went to bed when I did, about ten—you know, curfew. What time did you guys leave?"

"Ten, precisely, actually," George replied. "We wanted to head off any teachers, but we were really hungry. We saw Malfoy leave the Slytherin common room at about ten after."

"Well, then it really couldn't have been Malfoy." Hermione sighed. "The timing doesn't make sense. There are a lot of stairs in Gryffindor tower, so even if Colin left his bed at ten precisely, he wouldn't have made it down until about five after. If Malfoy had been waiting for him outside the Fat Lady, there is no _way_ he could have run all the way down six flights of stairs to the Slytherin common room and then come out again in the space of five minutes."

"Yeah, plus the teachers found Colin on the third floor, not the seventh, so it would have taken Colin longer than that," Fred added.

"Did Malfoy look out of breath?" asked Hermione.

"Actually, he was moving pretty slowly," said Fred. "I would say he'd just woken up. Looking kind of sluggish."

"I was so sure it was Malfoy," Ron said frustratedly. "Who do you guys really think it is?"

"No idea." Harry shook his head. "And now we don't even know who opened it last time, since Malfoy's grandfather probably didn't do it, either."

"It's been opened _before?"_ George's eyes, blue like Ron's, were wide.

"Regulus said so," Harry explained. "Remember, he knows a lot about the Dark Arts, and he has all these books in his house about Dark Magic. One of them, he says, tells about the legend of the Chamber of Secrets, and apparently, every word of it is true, even though Sirius doesn't think so."

"Wasn't Regulus a Death Eater?" asked Fred.

"Not anymore," said Harry. "Regulus risked his life to eradicate the Dark Forces. Only at the last minute did his house-elf, Kreacher, save him."

"I saw the Slytherins chatting him up at the Slytherin table on Halloween," George said darkly. "I bet they were asking to see his Dark Mark and everything."

"It makes him very uncomfortable," Hermione said. "So does Voldemort's name. Death Eaters weren't supposed to say it, either—not out of fear, but out of respect."

"And he calls him the 'Dark Lord' out of habit," Harry added. "But I don't really care. I know he's a good person."

…

They were a week into December when Professor McGonagall went around collecting the names of students who were staying or going for Winter Break. Harry, Ron, Hermione and the rest of the Weasleys were going, because Regulus had invited them all to stay at #12, Grimmauld Place over the holidays, including an invitation for Barbara and Phoebe.

Harry had been hoping he'd be roommates with Sirius again, like he was the summer before last and when they went to Arizona, but then he reminded himself that Sirius would be sharing a room with Barbara. The _real_ question, of course, was whether or not Holly was sharing a room with Regulus, and what "sharing a room" actually meant. Holly had seduced him once already.

But the excitement didn't end there. Halfway through December, a week later, Sirius held Harry back after Defense class.

"I've got great news," he said.

"What?"

"Well, the school is starting a Dueling Club, and guess who's going to be the teacher?"

"You?" Harry guessed.

"Got it in one," Sirius said proudly. "The Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher automatically gets the position. And guess what else?"

"What?" said Harry again.

"Snape is going to help me in the dueling demonstration," Sirius replied, his eyes gleaming. "This is finally my chance to duel him in front of the whole school."

Harry was happy about that, too. It would be great to see Sirius take Snape down. It couldn't be denied, of course, that Snape was quite the contender; he was far from incompetent, however much Harry disliked him. But still, maybe if Harry and his friends were cheering Sirius on, that would help him win. Sirius had the support of three-fourths of the school. The Gryffindor boys, at least, had pretty much idolized him ever since he'd taught them advanced Defense last year.

"Barbara and Reg are coming to watch, so the in-laws are going to babysit Phoebe," Sirius continued. "There's no way I'm going to have her in the Great Hall while people are dueling, and of course Robert and Gwen can't get enough of her."

…

When Harry, Ron and Hermione got to Dueling Club a few days later, they were far more excited to see Sirius and Snape at each other's throats than to do the actual dueling. The news was all around school by now, and since pretty much every student at Hogwarts was either a Snape fan or a Sirius fan (you couldn't truly be a fan of both, seeing as they despised each other) everyone wanted to see one of them take the other down. Sirius and Snape were both powerful, highly dangerous wizards, so a no-mercy duel would really be something to see.

Harry brought his father's dueling gloves and helmet, basically to show them off to everyone, especially Malfoy. He had the option to rinse the blood off of them, but eventually decided not to, keeping the blood as a trophy, sort of. It was a reminder that he had saved _himself_ from Quirrell last year, nobody else. Granted, he had needed a bit of saving from Voldemort, but then, he had only been eleven at the time. Harry had offered Sirius his father's gear, but Sirius turned them down, explaining that in a professional, arranged duel such as this one, as opposed to a death battle with a Dark wizard, dueling gear would be considered an unfair advantage.

When they arrived, the usual House tables were gone and had been replaced by a stage, with plenty of space around for students to try to knock each other unconscious with spells. (Knowing Sirius, he wouldn't stick with Disarming only.) Sirius and Snape were already there. Snape was glaring at Sirius.

"Welcome to Dueling Club, everyone!" Sirius grinned and flipped his shiny black hair out of his eyes. "As I've explained in my recent Defense classes, it's important to be able to fight Dark wizards, and one of the ways you do that is, of course, by offensive and defensive magic. So my colleague, Severus Snape, and I are going to treat you to a little demonstration—minus, of course, the annoying verbal banter that usually goes along with these things.

"Are you ready, Professor?" he said jovially, turning to Snape.

"Always ready, Black," Snape said grimly. "Always ready."

Following proper dueling etiquette, the two bowed; Snape did it with a rather pained expression on his face, but Sirius looked excited. Harry only hoped Sirius wouldn't get cocky and let his guard down, which could be his downfall. Everyone in the Great Hall was watching intently. Barbara was beaming up at Sirius, while Regulus looked wary.

" _Expelliarmus,"_ Snape began, flicking his wand at Sirius.

Sirius's wand flew out of his hand, and as he hastened to pick it up, Snape hit him with a Jelly-Legs Jinx, then raised his wand again, but before he could, Sirius slashed his wand sideways at Snape, causing a little trip wire to appear underneath Snape; the Potions Master jumped it, but in the time it took for him to do so, Sirius was able to rid himself of the jinx and get back on his feet. Sirius returned the favor by giving Snape a Jelly-Fingers Jinx on his wand hand, so that this time Snape was the one to drop his wand. When he bent to pick it up, Sirius cast another trip wire at him, and it worked.

" _Rictumsempra!"_ Snape shouted from the ground. Sirius couldn't control his laughter, although he managed to roll out of the way as Snape sent an unnamed blast of blue light at him. It took a bit, but he was finally able to gasp, " _Finite!"_ and rid himself of the spell.

" _Avamph!"_ With a swish-and-flick movement of his wand, Sirius had lifted Snape into the air and spun him around; Snape dropped to the ground in a heap of black robes and got up, positively spitting with rage.

" _Sectumsempra!"_ Snape yelled, pointing his wand at Sirius.

" _Protego!"_ Sirius deflected the curse.

The spell rebounded on Snape, but he dodged it, and the jet of light hit a stone statue behind them, shattering it.

" _Fumiganus!"_ Sirius pointed his wand at Snape, who looked alarmed…and with good reason, as he appeared to be smoking.

"Oh my God!" whispered Harry. "Sirius told me about that spell!"

"Really?" Hermione looked interested. "What does it do?"

"It's my dad's spell," Harry explained quickly. "He used it to enchant his broom to skywrite a proposal for my mum. But I don't know why Sirius used it, he said my dad lost control of the—"

Harry didn't get to finish his sentence. Snape was propelled up into the air, flying around the room uncontrollably and finally landing on his face. Sirius pointed his wand at Snape again: _"Fumiganus!"_

Sirius could hardly breathe for laughing as the spell repeated itself, but unfortunately for him, Snape landed on his feet.

" _Confringo!"_ he bellowed, and the students gasped as Sirius was blasted backwards into the wall. Sirius attempted to get up but Snape said, _"Tarantellegra!"_

Sirius's feet were dancing, and he had to use _Finite_ again in order to stand up. Dueling with Snape, it seemed, required lightning-quick reflexes, because Snape was already halfway through uttering another spell when Sirius raised his wand.

" _Furnunculus!"_ Sirius yelled at Snape, who now had boils all over his face. The crowd gasped yet again as Snape conjured a sword from midair.

" _Oppugno!"_ Sirius shot back.

The sword slashed Snape in the side of the face at the command of Sirius's wand; with flashing black eyes, Snape attempted _Sectumsempra_ again. It barely missed Sirius as he dodged, but the flash of light hit the sleeve of his robes and singed it.

"THOSE WERE MY NEW ROBES!" Sirius bellowed furiously, slashing his wand downwards. Harry thought he was attempting another trip wire, but instead the flash of light exploded right at Snape's feet like a firecracker. Snape howled in pain and fell down on his knees, his ankle slanted in a funny direction. Biting hard on his lower lip, eyes watering, Snape stood up on his good foot and raised his wand once more. Harry knew Snape had hit Sirius with the Conjunctivitis Curse, because this time it was Sirius's turn to let out a cry of pain as his hands covered his eyes.

Things were getting ugly for sure, but Harry knew that the eyes wasn't the right place to hit Sirius to weaken him. _Dogs use their noses like people use their eyes_ , Sirius had said once. And, of course, that meant that he could figure out Snape's location by his scent and heat signature.

Sure enough, as Harry predicted, Sirius's aim was true. Snape was almost hit with a Knee-Reversing Hex, but Sirius didn't see him deflect it. The jet of light hit Sirius instead, causing him to fall onto the ground. Now Harry really _was_ worried.

Sirius aimed his wand in Snape's direction and hollered, " _Fumiganus!"_ again, but Snape dodged it. This was very bad. Snape was capable of predicting Sirius's next move, while Sirius only had his sense of smell to guide him as to where Snape even was, much less what he was doing. The only hope Sirius had was if he could fix his eyes.

"How do you counter that curse?" Harry whispered to Hermione.

"You can't," she answered worriedly. "You need the Oculus Potion, and I don't think Snape will be making it for—oh my God!"

" _Sectumsempra!"_ Snape shouted once more; Sirius blocked it, but Snape dodged his spell flying right back at him. Harry prayed Sirius had some tricks up his sleeve. He had taken the spell off his legs, but his eyes weren't so easily repaired. Sirius aimed another firework at Snape, then another; the first one hit Snape's wrist, but the other hit the abandoned sword he had conjured, causing it to explode.

Sirius _did_ still have some tricks up his sleeve. As the sword exploded, Sirius waved his wand in a couple circles and out of the tip shot a fireball. Snape blocked the first one but he didn't have time to block the second; Sirius smelled smoke a mile away and dodged.

Snape was knocked backwards. Sirius shot the Incarcerous spell at Snape, who was suddenly bound in ropes. Harry remembered how last year Quirrell had tried the same thing on him, only he'd blocked it with his father's dueling gloves.

Fuming just as much as one of Sirius's fireballs, Snape wormed his wand hand out of the ropes, and flicked his wand at Sirius again: _"Stupefy!"_

"MOVE, SIRIUS!" Harry cried.

"YOU CAN STILL SMELL HIM!" Ron added at the top of his lungs. " _GET_ HIM!"

Harry knew that in a duel, the first one to lose consciousness was the loser. Sirius still had a lot of irritation in his useless eyes, as they were swelled shut, but he ducked the spell at the last minute, where it landed on poor Neville, who collapsed, but nobody even noticed, because they were focusing on the no-mercy duel. Snape used _Finite Incantatem_ to release himself from the ropes.

" _Petrificus Totalus!"_ Sirius hollered, but Snape dodged that, too.

Harry dearly wished he could give Sirius his father's dueling gear, but he didn't want people to think Sirius won the duel by cheating, and he knew Sirius wouldn't want that, either. He would fight to the death, jumping in paws first. The problem was, Snape was playing to win, too. Sirius's eyes were swelled; Snape's ankle was broken; both wizards' robes had been singed and dirtied. Neither of them would give in. But how far were they willing to go?

Apparently very far. Sirius and Snape were now going too fast for words. Snape got more licks in because Sirius couldn't see, but Sirius wasn't taken out so easily, not just because of his amazing sense of smell, but his fighting spirit. It was dueling as most of the students had never seen before. It was a little exciting whenever one of them made something explode, especially when Sirius sent Snape careening backwards and Snape responded with a blasting spell that nearly turned the stage into a crater. Snape shot arrows out of his wand, piercing Sirius, although luckily in non-fatal areas; Sirius shot bees out of his wand, and they swarmed all around Snape, stinging him. Neither of them cared about attacking the other while they were down; in fact, they seemed to prefer it.

Sirius got to his feet once more, clutching his arm, which had been pierced by an arrow; his forehead also had a gash, and he was shaking blood out of his face and looking murderous. He wasn't calling the bees off.

" _FINITE INCANTATEM!"_ Snape yelled for a second time, ridding himself of the conjured bees. Now he could barely see, either, because his face was covered in bee stings, as well as boils from Sirius's earlier curse. Hobbling around on his broken ankle, Snape didn't have a canine sense of smell like Sirius did, so he was basically blinded.

" _EXPECTO PATRONUM!"_ bellowed Sirius, and the giant silvery dog bounded out of his wand, going after Snape, who didn't see it coming until it bowled him over, nearly knocking him off the stage. Everyone in the Great Hall was staring with awe; Harry was willing to bet that most of them had never seen a Patronus in person before.

Harry was sure Snape had a Patronus, too, and he thought Snape was going to retaliate with his own and then it would be those two animals dueling. Snape looked as if he was debating over it quickly; maybe his Patronus was something that might embarrass him, like a flobberworm or something. So instead of that, he just rolled up his sleeves and hollered, _"SERPENSORTIA!"_

Hundreds of jaws dropped at once. It was a gigantic black snake, fangs bared, ready to strike. Harry knew that since Snape had conjured it, the snake would probably obey his commands. But maybe he shouldn't have been looking at the snake when he said what he did next, and if he hadn't been so distracted by the death battle in front of him, he might have remembered not to speak at all:

"My godfather's Patronus is going to finish you off!"

Harry hadn't even intended to say it, not really, anyway. But it was too late. The snake turned to look at Harry, its eyes glowing, and he heard it speak back:

 _How do you speak my language, human?_

All of a sudden Harry realized what he'd done. Snape and Sirius weren't casting spells anymore, and everyone was staring. But before anyone had a chance to say anything, Harry turned on his heel and bolted out of the Great Hall, his hands over his face.

It was all too clear what this meant. Snape and Sirius may have been the ones dueling, but it was Harry who was done for.

 **TO BE CONTINUED!**


	48. Double Attack

Harry stood out by the wall, trying to catch his breath, listening to the sounds of the teachers trying to calm everyone inside and, of course, get rid of the giant snake. Harry heard the doors burst open and felt a tall figure put an arm around him, pulling him bodily to the side.

"Regulus?" mumbled Harry.

"Are you all right, Harry?" Regulus asked, bending down to be face-to-face, but Harry looked away. He didn't like the scrutinizing look in those diamond-blue eyes.

"Yes," Harry lied, nodding his head. "Where's Sirius?"

"Kreacher is Apparating him and Snape to the hospital wing, and Barbara's going with them." Regulus straightened up and gently took hold of Harry's arm. "I'm to escort you back to your common room. Come on."

"I said I'm fine," Harry snapped, yanking his arm out of Regulus's grasp.

"Come on, Harry," Regulus said sternly, half-turning and beckoning for Harry to follow.

"Where's Dumbledore?" Harry continued, stalling for time. Of all the places he wanted to go, the common room was _not_ one of them.

"When it comes to your safety, Harry, Sirius trusts me a lot more than he trusts Dumbledore," Regulus said simply, "and after last year, I can't say I blame him. Come with me, please."

"No!" Harry protested. "Why did Sirius send you after me, anyway?"

"So you wouldn't go running off again." Regulus clamped his hand on Harry's shoulder. "And I have no intention of letting him down. Move it."

There was a sharp tone in Regulus's voice that said he meant business, so Harry allowed his godfather's brother to take him up to the Gryffindor common room, dreading what would happen when he got there. Ron and Hermione, he could face, because they already knew about his "ability," but the rest…Even if he hid up in his dorm, his roommates would probably badger him with stupid questions.

"Regulus, I'm _ruined_ ," Harry despaired. "Now everyone knows what a freak I am."

It had been a long time since Harry thought of himself as a "freak." Even before he met Sirius, he didn't really believe what his relatives told him about that. But when you weren't even normal compared to a whole bunch of abnormal kids, well, that was a different story. The last thing you wanted, at age twelve, in a school full of hormone-crazed kids who were either mindless sheep or unbelievably cruel, was something _extra_ to make you different, especially something that carried so much social stigma. It would have been more socially acceptable to shag a goat, as Sirius had once so aptly put it.

"You're not a freak, Harry," said Regulus. Obviously, he didn't understand.

"Yes, I am," Harry moaned. "I'm the Heir of Slytherin."

"But you didn't Petrify that Creevey boy, did you?"

"No, but everyone is going to _think_ I did."

"And that's what really matters to you?" Regulus raised an eyebrow. "Isn't it more important that _you_ know the truth?"

"Of _course_ not!" Harry told him incredulously.

"And why is that?" Regulus asked calmly, and that was when Harry lost his temper.

"Because I'm not you, okay?!" Harry shouted, yanking away from him and stopping right there in the hallway. It wasn't fair to take his feelings out on Regulus, he supposed, but he didn't care. "Nothing like this could ever happen to you! There's not a single thing you aren't good at, you're annoyingly mature, you're practically perfect in every way, and you have no idea what it's like to be my age!"

"I _was_ your age once," Regulus replied, not raising his voice, "and I'm _not_ perfect. Nobody is."

"See? You're also modest," Harry said angrily, wishing Regulus would just get angry, too, because (although he couldn't really explain why, even to himself), he felt like getting into an argument all of a sudden.

"Harry, I know you're upset," Regulus said, gently nudging Harry in the back to get him walking again. "But you have to understand—"

"I'm _not_ upset!" Harry yelled at him. This was hardly the truth; part of him felt like running into the nearest wizards' room and bawling his eyes out for half an hour, and another part of him felt like breaking somebody's jaw again. But none of him felt happy, or pleased, or even okay. Worst of all, Sirius couldn't even come to see him, because from the looks of it, his godfather would probably be in the hospital wing for a couple of overnights.

Regulus sighed and kept nudging Harry along.

"You know, it's not really your fault you spoke to the snake, at least," he said. "When someone is a Parselmouth, they often don't realize they're speaking to a snake until they actually do. It's an innate ability, but learning to control it takes practice."

"Oh, that's _great_ ," Harry said sarcastically. "Not only do I have the _ability_ to speak snake language, I can't even control whether or not I use it. As long as a snake's around, I just have to make small talk with it, is that right?"

"Essentially, yes," said Regulus. "At least, until you learn to control your ability."

"I don't want to learn to control it," Harry said. "I don't want to have it at all."

"Well, that's something you _can't_ control," Regulus said shortly.

Harry let out a sound of frustration and brushed his bangs out of his eyes; he had stopped using mousse and heat on his hair, at least for now. It just wasn't worth the trouble, he felt. Maybe he would do it again as he got older, but not yet. Besides, what did it matter? Who would want to be friends with the Heir of Slytherin?

They didn't talk for the rest of the walk to the common room. When Harry got to his dorm, he changed into his pajamas and quickly rushed into bed. Listening to the raging winter storm outside, he pulled the covers up and added a couple extra throw blankets. How he was going to be able to face his classmates the next day was anyone's guess.

…

Harry had some extra time to avoid the students when the same storm canceled out Herbology the next day. By the time Ron and the others arrived upstairs last night, he was pretending to be asleep, and they either believed him or took the hint that he wasn't in a talking mood, because there was none of the usual late-night roommate talk. Everyone left the dorm before Harry did, too, and he was glad for it.

But this was still bothering him. There was no way any of the idiots in his school would believe that he wasn't responsible for what happened to Mrs. Norris and Colin. To be honest, Harry wasn't even sure what had happened to them himself. How _did_ you Petrify someone? It was probably in that _Secrets of the Darkest Art_ book, but to be honest, Harry really got a bad vibe from that book, and he didn't want to go looking through it again, even if they _were_ all staying in Regulus's house this Christmas.

Another thing that was bothering Harry, though, was the huge amount of homework he had, and the fact that he was kind of wasting some extra time to do it. Maybe he was turning into Hermione, but he would rather not be saddled with a huge amount of homework over what was supposed to be Winter Break.

The common room was loud and noisy, but when Harry walked through it with his book bag, everyone was silent. Even the Gryffindors seemed to think he was the Heir of Slytherin. Harry didn't know where Ron and Hermione were, but he couldn't do his homework here, so he headed off to the library. And that was when Harry heard some Hufflepuffs gossiping about him.

When he listened in on them, it was clear that they all thought he was the Heir of Slytherin. Ernie MacMillan, who seemed to be an obnoxious boy, was saying that Harry was a Dark wizard just because he was a Parselmouth. Regulus was right, then.

"Where do you get off, thinking I'm a Dark wizard?" Harry demanded, stalking around the bookcases and facing the Hufflepuffs head-on. They all looked terrified.

"Only Dark wizards speak Parseltongue," Ernie said. He sounded nervous, but he was obviously trying to hide it. "For all I know, you're planning another attack on a Muggle-born right now. Which one is it going to be this time?"

"I am _not_ planning an attack!" Harry snapped back. "What do you think I have against Muggle-borns, huh? My own _girlfriend_ is Muggle-born, you think I would attack her? Well, I wouldn't."

"But—"

Harry didn't let Ernie finish. "You all are just a bunch of lemmings, you know that? You have no idea what's going on, and yet you get some wild idea in your heads and you run with it. Why don't you keep your groundless accusations to yourself, MacMillan?"

"I-I'm not the only one who thinks this," Ernie said, looking a bit shaken. "If you didn't do it, who did?"

"How should I know? You trying to worm a confession out of me or something?" Harry demanded. By now, he was almost yelling; this was just too much. Weren't Hufflepuffs supposed to be all kind and accepting? "I'm just as clueless about this as you are. Get that through your thick head."

And leaving the Hufflepuffs staring after him, he stormed out of the library.

…

Even after Harry got back to the Gryffindor common room and found Ron and Hermione sitting by the fire, doing their homework, he was still fuming.

"Are you all right, Harry?" Hermione asked. "What's wrong?"

"Let's just get our homework done," Harry mumbled. At least here in the common room, that stupid Ernie MacMillan couldn't bother him.

It didn't take long, though, for Harry and Ron to get bored of doing homework, and finally they, along with Hermione, opted to visit Sirius in the hospital wing. It was a long walk down, and they were only on the sixth floor when they heard several sounds in rapid succession: a long, loud, bloodcurdling scream; the sound of something falling; the wails of a baby; door after door banging open in the hallways; and everyone chattering at once, more screams and shouts, and the baby cried on.

"PHOEBE!" Harry bellowed, breaking into a run.

Ron and Hermione could barely keep up as Harry sprinted down several flights of stairs, following the sound of his baby sister's caterwauling, adrenaline coursing through his body. When they got to the third floor, where the cries were coming from, Harry elbowed his way through the crowd until he got to Phoebe—but he was horrified by what he saw.

Barbara was there on the floor, fainted dead away. Harry knew she wasn't Petrified, because her eyes were shut, but she was clearly unconscious. Phoebe was screaming, having tumbled out of her mother's arms and onto the floor. And there, on the floor next to Barbara, was…

"It's that kid—Justin something!" said Ron, pointing to the figure lying on the floor.

"And there's Nearly Headless Nick!" Hermione added in shock.

That was sure what it looked like. Justin was definitely Petrified, but what was wrong with the Gryffindor ghost? Instead of his usual pearly white, he was black and smoky, just floating there menacingly. He had the same look of shock on his face as Justin did. Harry swept in like a hawk and scooped Phoebe up into his arms, holding her against his heart the way Sirius did.

"Everyone, back to your classrooms!" Professor McGonagall ordered, shoving through the crowd. Unfortunately, so did Ernie MacMillan.

" _Caught in the act!"_ he shouted, pointing a shaking finger at Harry, then looking to Ron and Hermione. "And you two—helping him out, huh?"

"No!" Harry cried, rubbing Phoebe's back, praying for her to stop crying. "It wasn't me!"

"It wasn't him!" Ron and Hermione echoed.

"Enough!" Professor McGonagall snapped at them. "Potter! Come with me, now!"

"But what about Phoebe and Barbara?" Harry pleaded, his voice rising in pitch.

"We shall see," Professor McGonagall told him. After everyone had left to go to their classrooms, Professor McGonagall had Professors Flitwick and Sinistra carry Justin up to the hospital wing, where they were keeping Colin and Mrs. Norris, as well as Sirius and Snape (both Potions and Defense had been put on hold for now). She had Ernie MacMillan fan Nearly Headless Nick up there, too, and then she pulled out her wand.

" _Rennervate_ ," she said, pointing her wand at Barbara, and suddenly Barbara was conscious again. She jerked up, her breathing coming fast and heavy, her forehead glistening with sweat.

"Where is she?!" Barbara cried hysterically, looking around, arms grabbing at the air.

"She's here, Barbara," said Harry as he set the baby back in her mother's arms, his voice wavering. Barbara burst into tears.

"Did you see it?" Ron asked. "Did you see the monster?"

Harry glared at him, but it was too late.

"N-No!" Barbara sobbed. "I-I was…I was going t-to the h-h-hospital wing…to visit S-Siri…and I f-found another attack…and the ghost…"

It was too much for poor Barbara. She was now crying too hard to speak, rocking her daughter in her arms.

"Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger," said Professor McGonagall, "please escort Mrs. Black to the hospital wing for a Calming Draught. Mr. Potter, you come with me."

"B-But Professor—" Harry stammered. Did the _teachers_ think he was the Heir of Slytherin, too?

"Now, Potter," said Professor McGonagall dangerously, so Harry shut up and followed her as his friends took Barbara and Phoebe to the hospital wing. All Harry could really do was trot after the Transfiguration teacher, his heart pounding against his chest. On one hand, he was glad the monster had left _before_ Barbara and Phoebe turned up. However, he did not exactly have high hopes for whatever Professor McGonagall was planning for him.

 **TO BE CONTINUED…**


	49. Season's Greetings

It turned out Professor McGonagall was taking Harry to Professor Dumbledore's office. Harry didn't see the point, actually, once Dumbledore disclosed that he thought Harry _wasn't_ the one to attack all those people. One more thing that happened was that Fawkes the Phoenix finally died, and the new baby bird was reborn from the ashes. Harry knew all about phoenixes, though, because they were one of the animals Sirius had taught them about in his Care of Magical Creatures classes last year.

"Remember," said Dumbledore, as Harry finally walked out the door, "help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it."

Pretty words, maybe, but Harry didn't see how they could ever help him. Fawkes let out one final squawk as he closed the door.

…

Christmastime could not have come sooner for Harry, and a lot of students around him seemed to share the same point of view, albeit for a different reason. Most people in school seemed to be terrified that Harry would attack them if they crossed him, even if they were purebloods. Harry, meanwhile, was just eager to hide away from the prying eyes and whispers of his classmates.

Sirius, luckily, recovered fully from his duel with Snape. Of course, the Potions Master was healed as well, but luckily there weren't any more Potions classes before the train left on December 20. Sirius, Barbara and Phoebe traveled with everyone else on the school train, mostly because it was the most practical way to get to London. When they arrived at King's Cross, Regulus was waiting there with Paolo and his stretch limousine.

"Come on, get in," Regulus said in a friendly way. "Merry Christmas!"

"Happy Hanukkah, too," Barbara reminded him. "It starts today this year."

Regulus, Sirius, Barbara, Phoebe, Harry, Ron, and Hermione all clambered into the limo, and off they went. The rest of the Weasleys were staying for Christmas, too, Regulus explained, but they were going to arrive tomorrow.

Black Manor had a bunch of separate wings and different things on different floors, and you could spend days exploring it (at your own risk), but ultimately it had seven floors, just like Hogwarts, not counting the basement kitchen. There was one guest room each on every floor except the first floor, which meant six total.

They decided to turn the one on the seventh floor into a sort of impromptu nursery, since the seventh floor was also where Barbara and Sirius would be sleeping. The sixth floor would go to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, the fifth floor would go to Fred and George, the fourth floor would go to Ron and Harry, the third floor would go to Hermione and Ginny, and Percy had the second floor guest room to himself. Bill and Charlie were coming for Christmas Day, but they weren't doing any overnights. Harry and Ron were only wondering one thing when it came to sleeping arrangements, though.

"So…where is Holly going to sleep?" Harry asked Regulus casually as the limo came to a stop.

"Her home, in Hogsmeade," Regulus told him, with a look that clearly read, _Bug off_.

"Holly's _not_ staying overnight, then," Ron said to Harry as they walked inside, his voice laced with disappointment.

"Why does it matter?" Harry asked him cheekily. "She wasn't going to sleep with _you_." He laughed when Ron's ears turned bright red.

…

That evening, of course, Barbara led them in the Hanukkah rituals, using a menorah given to her as a wedding present by Richard and Rachel, her grandparents. But everyone went to sleep almost instantly after that; it had been a long journey there, and it wasn't very easy to get much sleep on the school train.

Harry was pleased to see that Remus and Tonks both showed up the next morning, their cheeks pink with cold, hair full of snow. He watched from the stairs as Sirius greeted them happily.

"Sirius, I was so happy you invited us," said Remus. "I thought you were furious with me."

"Christmas is no time to be furious with anyone," Sirius replied with a huge grin, then he pulled both of them into a big, warm bear hug.

"Now, isn't that nice," said Mrs. Weasley, walking up out of the basement kitchen where she and Barbara were busily preparing food. When she went back down again, Harry followed her and found Phoebe in her crib, awake and giggly, wearing a frilly pink shirt, matching flowered leggings, and Gryffindor socks (courtesy of her father, of course). Harry took her out of the crib and put her down on the rug on her tummy.

"How do you play with a four-month-old baby?" Harry asked Mrs. Weasley as he kneeled on the floor. Surely, she would know, since she'd had seven of them so far.

"I can show you one of Ron's favorites," she suggested, joining Harry on the floor. "It's called the Rock and Row game."

"Don't you mean Rock and Roll?" asked Barbara, who was cooking latkes.

"No," said Mrs. Weasley with a smile, and she gently helped Phoebe to sit up. "She gets bored laying down all the time."

Mrs. Weasley showed Harry how to hold onto Phoebe's little hands with his own and slowly pull her forward, then backwards, while singing a rhyme.

"Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream…" Harry was singing the rhyme, albeit a little reluctantly. "Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, life is but a dream." He stopped, though, when he saw Hermione come into the kitchen, a smirk playing around her lips.

"Nice," she said. "Not quite as good as 'The Lion Sleeps Tonight,' though."

"Do you want to try?" asked Harry, and Hermione played the game, too. Phoebe loved it. Even Sirius came down into the kitchen to watch.

…

Harry had never actually seen Sirius's room before, despite this not being his first stay at #12, Grimmauld Place. But after they'd played in the kitchen for some time, Barbara wanted to take a break from cooking and read Phoebe some books, so the two of them headed up there, accompanied by Sirius and Harry.

"I think we should read her something from _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_ ," said Regulus as they walked the many stairs up to the seventh floor. "Even four-months-old can appreciate being read to, I'm sure." He paused and looked around. "Where _is_ that book, anyway?"

"Uh…it's in here _somewhere_ , I think," muttered Sirius, opening his dresser and looking through the drawers, tossing things out here and there as he went along.

Meanwhile, Harry was looking around. If he had to describe Sirius's bedroom, it would probably be "higher-end interior design meets rebellious teenage boy." On the one hand, it might have looked classy; there was a fancy king-size bed, a fireplace, a tall window with velvet drapes, and even a candle chandelier. And yet, there was also a huge amount of Gryffindor memorabilia, plenty of pictures of scantily-clothed Muggle women, and a picture of the Marauders, with Wormtail's head scratched out. Looking down at the ground, Harry spotted a pile of _Witches and Broomsticks_ magazines, looking like they dated back to the 1970's.

"Nice room, Sirius," said Harry.

"Thanks," Sirius replied, and then, "Helloooo…what's _this?"_

"What?" Regulus moved over to look at the piece of paper in Sirius's hand. "Where'd you get that?"

"It was behind the dresser," Sirius answered. "I must have missed it."

Harry looked at the paper, too. It was a letter, on regular Muggle printer paper, dated back to January 26, 1986. The letter was handwritten in ballpoint pen, although the handwriting itself was extremely messy, slanting and running off the page. It was crinkly, like it had gotten wet and then dried over the years. Harry read along as Sirius read out loud:

 _HEEEEEEEY BROSKI!_

 _It's your little bro, REGGIE! Except shhh…you're not supposed to know I'm alive! But guess what! DA BEARS HAVE WON and GUESS WHAT ELSE? I am TOTALLY SHIT-FACED! Work was a KILLER! But so are DA BEARS! See ya, broski! P.S. I think I am going to throw up now. Love, REGGIE!_

After he was done reading, Sirius was laughing so hard, he could barely breathe.

"I can't believe it!" he cried. " _You_ got drunk, _you_ wrote me a stupid letter, and _you_ spilled your cookies all over your shoes?!"

"Apparently so," said Regulus stiffly.

"Some conduct for the Head of the House of Black!" Sirius howled, tears of mirth streaming down his face. "Right, _broski?"_

"Don't call me broski!" Regulus yelled, although his cheeks were as red as Santa's britches.

"You didn't even remember I was in Azkaban!" Sirius collapsed backwards onto the bed, still crying with laughter. "You were drunk out of your _mind_ , Reggie! Or should I say—broski!"

"Oh, give me that!" Regulus shouted, snatching the letter out of Sirius's hand. "I get hammered _one_ time—"

"One time! Ha! What else did you do, dance with a lampshade on top of your head?"

"NO!"

"No, as in, definitely yes!"

Barbara and Harry were laughing, too. It wasn't unbelievable that Regulus would go to a Super Bowl party after work, but the idea that he _himself_ had gotten drunk was the unexpected part. Regulus would sometimes drink alcohol (white wine out of a long-stemmed glass), but he would always stop at one.

"You are _so_ immature!" Regulus said disgustedly, shoving the letter roughly into his pocket. "I barely even remember that night."

"Of _course_ you don't remember it," Sirius answered. "You were intoxicated."

"Enough!" Regulus snapped. "Can we _please_ find that book?"

"Whatever you say, broski," said Sirius, and Regulus groaned.

…

They spent the rest of the day cooking and decorating, just getting ready for Christmas. Regulus, unfortunately, had to work on Christmas Eve at Store #8 (with Bruiser and Marcelle both fired, as well as Dylan being more of a liability than an asset, he was carrying a quadruple load), but Sirius, Remus, Barbara, Harry, Ron and Hermione agreed to come support him. Holly wanted to come with, but she had to work, too.

It was fun, but it made for a very tiring day. Ron fell asleep almost immediately, and Harry was just about to drift off himself when his legs bumped into something at the foot of his bed. He grabbed his glasses and blinked. It was so dark.

"Hello?" he whispered.

"Harry Potter!" said a familiar-sounding voice. "It is Dobby!"

"What are you doing here?" Harry looked closer; he could just make out the big green eyes at the end of the bed, the silhouette of the pencil nose and bat ears. It was definitely Dobby.

"Merry Christmas, Harry Potter," said the house-elf, handing Harry a Christmas cookie. Harry took it, but he didn't eat it. "Dobby is here to ask! Why did Harry Potter go back to school? Why did Harry Potter not listen to Dobby?"

"Listen, I can't miss a whole year of school," Harry insisted. "My education is really important to me." Okay, now he was turning into Hermione for _sure_.

"Even if he was late to the feast?" asked Dobby, staring up into Harry's eyes.

" _What?"_ said Harry. "Are you saying _you're_ the one who made me so late?!"

"Indeed, sir," Dobby admitted, casting his eyes downwards. "Dobby spiked Harry Potter's treacle tart with sleep potion and turned off his alarm. Dobby did not think Miss Barbara would wake Harry Potter up, sir."

"And I'll bet you were the one who messed with the Bludger, too," Harry said angrily. "What are you trying to do, kill me?"

"Never kill you, sir!" Dobby cried, looking scandalized. "Just injured enough to be sent home."

" _Why_ , though?!"

"If Harry Potter only knew," Dobby said miserably. "Stay here, Harry Potter, stay here! Terrible things will happen at Hogwarts, now that the chamber is open once more…"

"Who was it who opened it last time, Dobby?" Harry demanded. Now that the Malfoys' alibi had checked out, they didn't have any leads.

"Dobby cannot say!" said the elf, and with that, he Disapparated.


	50. Christmas Eve

Two days before Christmas, Regulus came to Harry with a proposition. He asked Harry to meet him in the Black Family Library, which Harry did. The chairs weren't exactly comfy (they were fancy, wing-backed, Slytherin-green chairs with little cushioning, fitting in with the house's general Gothic-Victorian theme), but they would have to do. Harry felt a little nervous, but not so much once he saw Regulus appear from behind a bookshelf, holding a few old books.

"Good afternoon," he said kindly.

"Good afternoon," Harry replied, although his eyes were still on the books. "What are those?"

Regulus shrugged and sat down in the other chair. Even the way he sat was graceful; he sat upright, his back against the chair, knees together, both toes pointing forward, with his right foot tucked slightly behind his left. He put the books on the little table and smiled at Harry, his fingers interlocked in his lap. "I wondered if you would be interested in learning to control your Parseltongue ability."

"Why would I want to do that?" Harry demanded. He'd been sitting the way he normally did, knees apart and kind of slouching, but he quickly changed his position to sit the way Regulus was sitting, knees together and with perfect posture. It was very uncomfortable. Harry felt like asking Regulus, _Are you sure you're human?_

"Well, I didn't think you would want to speak to a snake again," Regulus told him, "and you probably want to be able to speak it on demand, right? This way you can speak to other Parselmouths even when no snakes are around, and if there _is_ a snake around, you'll be able to resist the urge to converse with it. If it says something, of course, you'll hear it, but no longer will you respond unless you want to. It's actually very psychological in nature, not physical."

"But Voldemort is the only other Parselmouth I'm aware of," said Harry, ignoring the way Regulus still kind of flinched at hearing his old master's name. "And I don't want to speak with him."

"That's fine," said Regulus. "I just thought that if you had more control over this ability, you'd be able to…accept it. Cassiopeia has let me borrow her snake cane."

Harry thought about it. That was a fair point. What if there was a snake again, in the school? Did he _really_ want his classmates to see him speaking Parseltongue again? No, he didn't. And maybe someday he would meet the other Heir of Slytherin in the school, and try to talk to him, gain some false trust, maybe.

"Okay." Harry took a deep breath. "I'll do it."

It was really scary at first. Regulus had Cassiopeia's cane, like he said, and when Harry first looked at it, he had the weirdest feeling, like he had some sort of horrible connection with it. But Regulus was already looking through the books.

" _Parseltongue for Beginners_ ," Regulus read. "Ah, yes…this is a book that teaches Parselmouths how to control their ability—even the Gaunts had to study it, probably. It says that the first thing you have to do is look the snake in the eyes, and when you feel an urge to speak to it, look away."

"I'm ready," said Harry, and Regulus showed him the cane. Harry felt his mouth opening, sensed the words on his tongue, the words that felt like English but weren't.

"Look away!" Regulus commanded. "Breathe."

Harry turned his eyes away from the snake cane. He took in a huge gulp of air and let it out slowly, and he was relieved to find that he didn't feel himself needing to speak Parseltongue again. Once he had recovered, Regulus pulled out the cane again. Harry looked in the snake's eyes about a fraction of a second longer, but he had to turn his head away in order to stay silent.

They practiced for about an hour. The point was that Harry had to wait longer and longer before he could turn his head away, and eventually, he would be able to look that snake— _any_ snake—in the eyes for as long as he wanted without feeling the need to communicate with it. Learning to speak Parseltongue on demand without a snake around would be a little harder, Regulus said, but they could work on that another day.

…

Just as he'd promised, Regulus had to work at Store #8 on Christmas Eve. Dylan would be there, Harry knew, because part of the severance package was that he could work for another six months in order to help him get back on his feet. Thankfully, Marcelle and Bruiser were gone. Regulus left for work around one, informing everyone that he might not get home until almost midnight.

Around seven, though, Harry and Sirius went to eat dinner there, along with Ron, Hermione, Barbara, Phoebe and Remus. As bad luck would have it, their waiter was Dylan.

"Oh. My. GOD!" Dylan screeched, rushing up to their table. "It's you, Mr. Black! And you had your baby, too!"

" _Barbara_ had the baby, you mean," Sirius said jokingly, since the way Dylan put it sounded a little ambiguous. "The empathy birth isn't real life."

"Watching my new baby get born was really scary," Dylan began. "I wished I could have it for Ashley, because she was in so much pain! She gave me lots of bruises, here, I'll show you—"

"No thanks," Sirius said quickly. "I believe you."

"Anyway, Mr. Black…" Dylan giggled with excitement again, and pointed at his face. "Look!"

Sirius squinted a little. "What am I supposed to be looking at?"

"Don't you _see?"_ Dylan demanded, rubbing his cheeks meaningfully.

"Acne," said Barbara sympathetically, looking closer. "I got a lot of that when I was pregnant. It was really gross. I have a facial wash you could use…"

"NO!" Dylan cried, looking scandalized. "I'm growing _stubble!_ Just like you, Mr. Black!"

"Sorry," said Sirius, "but I really don't see anything."

Harry looked closely at Dylan, too. He looked exactly the same as when they'd last met. Dylan looked extremely put out.

"It's probably because you're blonde," Remus told him charitably. "It doesn't show up as easily on blondes."

"Did you _ever_ shave?" Harry asked curiously.

"No," Dylan admitted, then his blue eyes focused on Sirius. "But I really, really want to be just like you, Mr. Black."

Harry could tell that Sirius was a little creeped out. They said imitation was the sincerest form of flattery, but who knew how long Dylan was prepared to keep this up?

"Come on, feel," Dylan insisted, leaning over Sirius and pointing at his face again. "I bet you can feel the hair there, even if you can't see it."

"No!" said Sirius, trying to wave him away, but Dylan just leaned in further, until finally he accidentally knocked over a glass of water, spilling it all over Sirius's new shirt.

"Oops! Sorry!" he shrieked, and promptly burst into tears. Sirius sighed.

"Dylan, what are you doing?"

Everyone turned around. To their shock, Regulus was standing there, but instead of his usual button-down shirt, slacks, and telling Slytherin tie, he was dressed up like a waiter and carrying three trays of food at once—one in each hand, and one on his head. He was wearing a stained apron and a Reggie's Pizza Empire hat on his head. His face was a deep red, the gel was falling out of his hair, and he was covered in food stains. He didn't look quite as graceful as he had yesterday in the library.

"R-Reggie!" Dylan shouted, in between his tears. "Uh…I was just saying hello to your brother and his friends."

"He was showing us his new stubble," Barbara added, and then, because she felt sorry for him, "It's already coming in and very manly."

Regulus gave her a weird look, but Dylan looked heartened.

"Thanks, Barbara!" he shrieked happily.

"Dylan, get their drink orders," Regulus commanded, so everyone ordered their drinks. After Dylan reached the kitchen, tripping over his own feet three times, Regulus approached their table.

"What are you doing as a waiter, Reg?" Sirius wanted to know.

"Bruiser and Marcelle may have been awful people, but they were good at their jobs," Regulus explained miserably. "It's a complete madhouse in here, and I have no choice but to take on some of the responsibility myself. Everyone is working and we're still shorthanded."

"What about your face?" Barbara asked concernedly. "It's all red."

"One of the customers threw her hot chocolate in my face," Regulus answered with a sigh. "Man, I'd forgotten how horrible it is to be a waiter."

"Well, do a good job and we'll give you that four percent tip," Sirius said jokingly. Regulus glared at him.

"But Regulus," said Ron, "why didn't you just use a—"

"Statute of Secrecy, Ron!" Hermione hissed, putting her finger to her lips. "Until Store #9 opens, this place is all Muggle."

"Oh, don't _remind_ me," Regulus groaned, the platter on top of his head wobbling dangerously. He looked like he was about to throw up.

"Here, let me get those, little brother." Sirius stood up quickly and took the plates away from Regulus. "Go take a break, okay? Pull yourself together."

"Sirius, I _can't!"_ Regulus was protesting tearfully, but Sirius was nudging him towards the restroom.

"Fiddlesticks," Sirius said, after Regulus left. "I forgot to ask him what tables these go to."

"We can ask around," Remus told him, standing up. "When people notice their food coming, they'll signal us."

"Harry," said Barbara as she watched Sirius and Remus pass out the food, "you should go to the restroom and see if Regulus is okay."

"I don't know," Harry said doubtfully.

"Believe me," Barbara insisted. "As a woman, I just know."

Harry sighed and stood up. He didn't think this was a very good idea at all.

When he entered the men's, Harry was horrified to hear a sound he clearly recognized—a person crying, but trying to hide the sound. He thought for a minute. It would be so easy to leave right now and let Regulus cry himself out. But at the same time, he remembered the same thing happening to him many times, a young child crying in a cupboard, knowing nobody would come to comfort him and dry his tears; before he had a Padfoot to lick those tears away.

Trying not to make a sound, Harry followed the sound of the almost inaudible tears, and finally he found Regulus in an unlocked stall, the big one with the metal bar and changing table.

The sight was truly discouraging. Regulus didn't seem to have noticed Harry or the sound of footsteps. He was hanging on the metal bar next to the toilet, his face buried in his arms crossed over the silver bar, shoulders shaking with sniffles every so often. Harry hated it. Whenever someone was crying, all he wanted was for them to stop. He never knew what to say or do.

"Regulus?" he whispered finally.

"Harry!" Regulus looked embarrassed. "What are you doing in here?"

"I-I just wanted to make sure you were okay," Harry said nervously. "What's the problem?"

"All life is a problem, Harry," Regulus told him, his voice shaking as he took out his handkerchief and wiped his eyes.

"Well, uh…" Harry didn't know what to say. "Can you narrow it down a bit?"

"It's nothing for you to worry about, Harry," Regulus told him.

"What's that supposed to mean?!" Harry felt so frustrated all of a sudden. He was already twelve—twelve and a half, in fact! Why did everyone have to treat him like he was six? _All_ the time?

"I just have a lot on my plate, that's all," Regulus said finally. "Most of my employees are suffering from Holiday Season Stress Syndrome—and I can't say I'm not feeling some of it myself…and I just wish…oh, it's so stupid. You wouldn't understand."

"Try me, why don't you?"

"Will this be off the record?"

" _Yes_ ," Harry promised.

"Now that I'm back home with the family, and it's almost Christmas," Regulus began, his face starting to cloud over again, "I wish my parents were here. I wish Mom could've seen me take the Head of House ring…meet Holly…Never will I know…if I've made her proud. If only she had known I was still alive."

With that, he leaned his head on his arms and forgot himself once more. What would that be like, Harry wondered, to lose your child? He remembered how Barbara had cried once she told Sirius of her miscarriage three years ago. _Blood and pain and tears, but no heartbeat, not anymore_ …It had to be even worse if it was an already-born child you'd had for eighteen years. Harry couldn't feel sorry for Walburga Black, not after seeing what she did to Sirius. But Regulus didn't deserve to have lost his mother. He imagined brave Regulus receiving the news in America, how horrible that must have been, yet carrying on with his restaurant anyway.

"Regulus, why wouldn't I understand that?" Harry asked, praying for Regulus to just stop crying. "My parents are dead, too. I wish every day I could speak to them. Sirius says they would have been proud of me…but how do I know for sure?"

"I d-didn't know another thing t-to do." Regulus didn't seem to have even heard. "Maybe I-I should have stuck with the plan…j-just died."

"Oh, Regulus, don't say that!" Harry was starting to feel kind of panicky. All he wanted, so badly, was for Regulus to just cheer up again. It was horrible seeing him like this. But that didn't seem to be happening any time soon.

"Hello? Reg?" they suddenly heard a familiar voice calling. "Harry?"

"Sirius?" Regulus yelped.

It didn't take long for Sirius to find them in the end stall. To Harry, Sirius was like an angel from heaven. Now he didn't have to try to make Regulus feel better; he could just watch what Sirius did. And what Sirius did was, he didn't try to make Regulus stop crying. He just hoisted him up off the toilet and embraced him, the same way he did when Harry was upset. It seemed that once Sirius was holding onto him, Regulus cried more, not less.

"What's wrong, little brother?" Sirius asked finally, his voice unusually soft.

"I-I miss Mom," Regulus blurted out, apparently not even caring who he was talking to. His tears just kept on pouring, like water from a hose. "It's—it's Christmas…a-and I don't h-have her."

"I know," whispered Sirius, one hand rubbing Regulus's back, the other on the back of his head. "But _I'm_ here, and I always will be."

It took a few minutes for Regulus to finally cry himself out, but when he did, he murmured, "Thank you, Sirius."

"Anything for my baby brother," Sirius said affectionately. "Now, you go home and get some rest, okay? Remus and I have decided to act as waiters for the rest of the evening—or at least until about nine, when it slows down a bit."

"Oh, Sirius, you don't have to—" Regulus began, but Sirius shook his head and grinned.

"You're welcome," he said, putting his finger over Regulus's lips. Regulus agreed to act as waiter only until Harry's party was finished with their dinner, and that was that.

When they were eating, and Regulus was off waiting on somebody else, Harry spotted Marie, the waitress who had taken him under her wing when he was a waiter himself. Her hair was a similar color to Ron's, but in a feather cut. She was so nice, and a friendly kind of pretty. So Harry was shocked when, as she passed by, one of the customers grabbed her backside.

"Nice ass, honey," he said obnoxiously, giving it a squeeze. "You know what I want tonight? Nothing that's on the menu, that's what."

Remus started to rise from his seat in indignation as Marie rushed away with tears in her eyes, but Sirius shook his head, a wicked sort of grin spreading across his face.

"Let me handle this one, Moony," he said. "Barbara, shield Phoebe's eyes and ears, would you?"

Barbara covered Phoebe's ears and turned the baby in towards her chest so she couldn't see anything, but everyone else gasped collectively as Sirius, leaning effortlessly back in his chair, reached his arm out and, in one fluid movement, seemed to scoop the offending customer out of thin air, grabbing him right on the butt and giving it a squeeze.

"Hey there, cutie," he said flirtatiously. "Nice ass."

"W-What?" said the man, looking horrified.

"How 'bout meeting me in the john later tonight?" Sirius asked in a husky voice. "I've got an extra-large sausage just for you—and at Reggie's, we only do it _deep_." He gave one exaggerated thrust of the hips, leaving no doubt as to what he was referring to.

The customer screamed at the top of his lungs and wrested out of Sirius's grip, heading for the door. He couldn't have run faster if there had been a pack of timber wolves at his heels.

Remus was shaking his head, but everyone else broke into laughter; even Hermione was smiling. Barbara was crying with mirth, Ron spit out his drink all over the table, and Harry's sides were aching from laughing so hard.

"I don't think he'll be grabbing any more asses for a _long_ time now," Sirius remarked, and that got everyone laughing again.

"I'm surprised you still remember how to do that, Sirius," Remus said dryly.

"Sure I do, but now I only do it to _one_ woman," Sirius replied, giving Barbara a thousand-watt smile.

…

Regulus drove Barbara, Harry, Ron, Hermione and Phoebe home in the Ford Fiesta that night, leaving Sirius and Remus behind as temporary members of the waitstaff. Barbara put Phoebe to bed, of course, but stayed up for Sirius. Eventually they came home around eleven; Remus went home to Crescent Cottage, while Barbara and Sirius went upstairs.

It did not escape Harry and Ron's notice, as they went up to bed themselves, that Holly Greengrass had arrived at Black Manor shortly after they did. More importantly, she was _spending the night_ —and not in one of the guest bedrooms, either.

The question, of course, was what "spending the night" meant.

"Do you think they're doing anything?" Ron said to Harry.

"I don't know," Harry answered. "I mean, Regulus was really tired, and I know the Holiday Season has him stressed out."

"Maybe he needs a way to relieve all that stress." Ron paused thoughtfully. "What do you suppose Holly wore to bed?"

Harry tried to think of what Barbara usually wore to bed. "Pajama pants and a tank top?" he guessed.

"Don't you have any imagination?" Ron said back. "She probably wears a sexy, lacy black slip with a slit up the side, very see-through on top."

" _Ron!"_ said Harry, shocked. "How do you _know_ about that?"

"It was in _Witches and Broomsticks_ ," Ron explained. "Besides, I'm not talking about pajamas, anyway."

"I…I thought you asked what I thought she wore to bed," Harry said slowly.

"Well, she doesn't keep it on for very long. Or at least that's what's in the magazine."

"Oh," said Harry, sucking in his breath. In his mind's eye, he suddenly had an image of Holly wearing something like that. It was not exactly a turn-off. "What…what do they do…in the magazine? After she takes it off?"

"Come on, you know what they do," Ron told him.

"Yeah," said Harry. There was a pause. "Listen…I don't think we should be talking about these things."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I just…it's probably wrong to think about someone in _that_ way," Harry said uncertainly. "Even if she _is_ really pretty."

"You can't even _think_ about it?" Ron sounded a little disbelieving.

"No. It's personal," said Harry, remembering the word Regulus had used to describe his relationship with Holly. This wasn't the first time Harry had thought about Holly in a fantastical way, to be honest, but he always felt kind of guilty about it. He even felt guilty when he had the same thoughts about Hermione. Besides, not even Regulus thought about it, Harry was sure, since they weren't married or engaged.

"Well, goodnight, then," said Ron sleepily. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas," Harry replied, and they both fell asleep.


	51. I Would Have Loved Her, Too

On Christmas Day, while Ron slept, Harry woke up at seven in the morning with an insane need to use the bathroom. He left his bedroom and headed for the fourth-floor bathroom, but someone—or some _thing_ —else was already there, and before Harry could get a good look at the creature, it attacked him.

What Harry saw flashing before his eyes (besides his young life) was a sort of skeleton-type thing, but with skin. It could be described, perhaps, as what a dementor would look like without its cloak, except its mouth hole had gigantic, sharp teeth and its hands ended in equally lethal claws. As it almost grabbed him, he let out the loudest scream.

In a couple of minutes, there came Sirius rushing into the bathroom, just in Gryffindor boxers and a black T-shirt with a dog bone on it, hair all messy, demanding to know what all the noise was about and why someone would even be awake at such an ungodly hour. He was out of breath, too, because he didn't trust himself to Apparate before eleven in the morning. So he had run down two flights of stairs instead.

"What's going on in—GAAAHHH!" Sirius was attacked by the creature, too. Harry and Sirius held onto each other, screaming, as the creature, with glowing red eyes, gaping mouth, teeth like kitchen knives, and a barely humanoid, skeletal form bore down upon them.

Next came Regulus, wrapped in a huge, fluffy green bathrobe, his hair slightly tousled but looking refreshed, well-rested, and pleased with himself. Until he saw the monster.

"Oh my God!" he cried, and grabbed the arms of both Sirius and Harry, transporting them all the way to the main drawing room on the first floor. It was only then, when they were out of danger, that Harry realized the monster had startled him a bit _too_ much. Sirius was probably too sleepy to notice (the moment they got downstairs, Sirius slumped down onto the couch again), but Regulus was surely just pretending, to be polite. It was so embarrassing, not to mention annoying.

"Can someone please explain to me," Harry grouched, "why there's a _monster?_ In the _bathroom?!"_

"That was a ghoul, Harry," Regulus explained patiently. Sirius, who undoubtedly already knew this, groaned, his eyelids fluttering slightly. "Except for Kreacher, nobody was living in this house for seven years—my mother died in 1985, and by the time I moved in, it was 1992. Ghouls like quiet, uninhabited places, like graveyards and big empty houses, especially if people died there."

"So you _knew_ about the ghoul?" Sirius yawned.

"No, I didn't," Regulus admitted. "I never use that bathroom. Only the one on the seventh floor and the one down here. But I know a ghoul when I see one."

Harry shuddered. "Well, it was terrifying."

"Yes, I apologize for that," Regulus said.

Then they heard running feet coming downstairs. All three of them turned to look, and it was Hermione.

"Is everyone okay?" she asked anxiously. "I heard all this noise on the fourth floor, and I do hope you're all right…"

Well, now Harry was _not_ all right. No doubt he would rather be eaten by the ghoul than let his girlfriend know he'd wet his pants. Before she could glance his way, he sunk down onto the floor and drew his legs up against his chest.

"We encountered a ghoul, Hermione," Regulus said seriously.

"Oh my God!" Hermione said, just like Regulus. "Well, you guys had better get rid of it. Ghouls are extremely dangerous. The only way to truly kill one is to decapitate it."

"Can we put it on the To-Do list?" Sirius mumbled, his face in the couch cushions. "I want to go back to bed."

…

It took awhile for everyone to wake up and get ready, although since Black Manor had a lot of bathrooms, there wasn't too much of a wait. Barbara had issues because she had nowhere to plug in her hairdryer, so Sirius dried her hair for her. Harry styled his hair with mousse and the hair-drying spell Sirius invented, because Christmas was a special occasion. It was already noon when everyone came downstairs to celebrate and open presents.

Barbara took the time to dress Phoebe in an adorable Christmas outfit. It was a red dress with a filmy skirt, and there was another green skirt underneath. She wore white stockings and black ballerina slippers, and there was a big red bow on her head.

Many other members of the Black family showed up, like Andromeda and her family, Cassiopeia, Aunt Lucretia and even the Malfoys, which Harry, Ron and Hermione were not exactly pleased about. Bill and Charlie showed up, which was nice, because Harry had never met them. Some sixth-year prefect showed up, too, saying she was Penelope Clearwater, and a friend of Percy Weasley.

Most of the women (Mrs. Malfoy excepted, of course) went down into the kitchen to help Barbara and Mrs. Weasley with the food. The men hung out in the drawing room. Regulus was being a good host and getting everything ready, with Kreacher's help; Hermione was feeding Phoebe a bottle; Remus was talking with Sirius, making up for lost time; and all the Malfoys were together and looking around disdainfully. Draco was displeased, because Astoria had elected to go help her mother and cousin in the kitchen, and Daphne had stayed upstairs. Obviously, he wished it had been the other way around.

"May I get you something to drink?" Regulus asked them courteously.

"Some white wine would be nice, please," Mr. Malfoy said in a haughty sort of way. He looked at his wife, and she nodded.

"Whatever," Draco said grumpily.

"I'll get you some water," Regulus told him, and left.

"Hey, Harry," Ron whispered. "D'you think Astoria will become Lady Malfoy someday?"

"Not even in his wildest dreams," Harry said back, trying and failing to contain his laughter.

"I haven't seen Holly as of today, yet," said Ron. "Is she really in the kitchen?"

"Most of the women are, even though Regulus says we're eating in the formal dining room," Harry replied. "You want to go say hi? I'm bored."

"Yes!" Ron yelped, jumping up. "I mean, uh…I'm bored, too."

They went down into the basement kitchen. On the way down, Harry asked Ron, "Are most pureblood families this traditional?"

"You mean…with all this pureblood stuff?"

"No, I mean, with women doing the cooking and cleaning and stuff, staying home with the children, and men handling the family affairs and finances," Harry clarified. "That's how it was in the Dursleys' household, even though they're Muggles."

"That's how it is in _my_ family, too," Ron said. "But with most pureblood families, they're rich, so they have house-elves to do all the stuff that would usually be assigned to the women. The men still handle all the business dealings and interactions with other pureblood families."

"So…what do the women do?" asked Harry.

"They have the babies, and then it's mostly social gatherings, the Dark Arts, and shopping from there on out."

Harry thought of Mrs. Malfoy, who probably couldn't cook or clean to save her life. As Sirius said once, she married right out of one snotty, rich family right into another. Of course, Harry knew she hadn't really had much of a choice, and it was unclear how much she and her husband _really_ loved each other, or if they were just pretending for the sake of their son and their "image." But either way, she probably could do almost nothing for herself. That was just the way many pureblood women were raised.

When they got into the kitchen, Harry was surprised at Holly. She was wearing a Santa's Helper outfit, complete with a Santa hat and knee-high, high-heeled black boots, and a red dress with fluffy white trim that accentuated her breasts even more than usual. Her chestnut-brown hair was curled into many ringlets. with an apron on top. Ron couldn't stop staring at her Christmas costume. Mrs. Weasley and Barbara were giving the orders, and all the other women were doing what they asked. Andromeda's daughter, Tonks, wasn't there, but Harry hadn't seen her in the drawing room, either.

"Where's Tonks?" Harry said.

"She's setting the table with Astoria," Mrs. Weasley said, a hint of nervousness seeming to creep into her voice.

"Hmm…is there anything _we_ can do?" asked Harry.

"That's sweet of you, dear, but we've got everything under control," Mrs. Weasley told him. That didn't exactly look true, but Harry figured he and Ron would be more of a hindrance than a help.

"Leave the cooking to the women, Harry," Barbara added jokingly.

"What are you making?" Harry asked her.

"Well, this is my first Christmas, and Phoebe's," she said with a smile. "I'm making some food we normally have on Hanukkah, like latkes and stuff…but I'm also making chili dogs. I'm hoping I can show Narcissa how to make them. Sirius says hers are really bad."

"They _are_ bad," Andromeda said firmly, carrying a roast to one of the ovens. Several ovens, prep counters, and stoves had been magically added, to accommodate for all the food. There was a lot more silverware and plates than normal, too. "But I don't think Narcissa wants you to teach her how to cook, Barbara."

"Rubbish," said Barbara cheerily. She just didn't seem to understand how deeply the rifts between the Black sisters were; maybe she didn't think anyone could dislike Andromeda.

Hermione was done feeding Phoebe by the time Harry and Ron got back upstairs, and the three of them spent some time playing with the baby before Christmas brunch. Holly came to join them at one point; she had taken off her apron, but she was visibly sweating.

"I needed to get some air…and I'm no good at cooking, anyway," she admitted. "How about we sing some Christmas carols to pass the time?"

"What did you have in mind?" Regulus asked, grinning and flexing his fingers. Harry recalled that he was quite the pianist.

"The First Noel," said Holly. "That way, you can sing the male part, and I can sing the female part."

After a fantastic, beautiful, flawless piano introduction, Regulus started to sing. His voice, like his piano skills, and pretty much everything else about him, was amazing. Holly's voice was great, too—it was a deep alto, sort of like Andromeda's, the sort of voice you usually hear singing country or jazz. Regulus was just on the low end of tenor, but both of them had a nice range. Not that "The First Noel" was such a difficult song, vocally _or_ on the piano, but still, the music was absolutely wonderful.

"You guys are singing Christmas music?" asked a familiar voice, and Harry noticed Barbara walking into the drawing room with a bunch of other women.

"I thought you all were making Christmas brunch," said Sirius.

"Most of the stuff is cooking, not much left for us to do at this point," Barbara replied. "Molly, Lucretia and Cassiopeia have agreed to keep an eye on the pots and ovens so nothing burns, of course, but they figured we should join in with the music."

"Well, we're glad to have you," Regulus told her. "Besides, you don't know many Christmas carols, do you, Barbara?"

"Nope," she admitted. "I'd like to learn some, though."

"There is _one_ you know, though, Barbara," said Sirius with a grin. "Isn't there…?"

"Are you talking about…" Barbara grinned back.

"Christmas Dinner, Country Style!" Ron, Ginny, Fred and George all yelped at the same time.

"Huh?" said Holly.

"It's a great Christmas song, dancing included," Sirius explained excitedly. "We sang it every Christmas at the Potters', and last year, I taught Barbara the song. She wanted to learn one Christmas song that year, so that was the one I chose. It'll be even better with a huge amount of people, though…"

"Usually," said Ron's father, Mr. Weasley, "Molly and I are the callers. But since she's down in the kitchen—Sirius and Barbara, if you know the song, why don't you be the callers this time around?"

"Sure," Barbara said brightly.

"I don't know it, but I can play it as long as I have the accompaniment," Regulus added, although he looked a bit apprehensive.

"No problem, Reg." Sirius waved his wand and a few sheets of music appeared out of thin air. Regulus caught them and looked the score over.

"Yeah, I should be able to play this," he said. "To the piano!"

"Hey, wait, _I_ don't know it," Penelope Clearwater pointed out.

"I don't know it, either," said Hermione.

"Nor me, and I bet my cousins know it even less," Holly added, pointing to Daphne and Astoria, who shook their heads solemnly. Harry told Sirius he didn't know the song, even if his parents and grandparents had sung it every year when they were alive. The Tonks family knew it, though, probably because they loved it as much as the Potters and the Weasleys. Remus was smiling; since it was a favorite of the Potters', undoubtedly he knew it, too.

"Don't worry if you don't know it," Sirius said to the room at large. "It's super easy. Just do what everyone else is doing. The point is to have fun, not to be perfectly coordinated."

"Glad to hear it," said Tonks jokingly.

They all crowded around the piano; the drawing room was huge, so there would be plenty of room for the dance. Regulus sat down at the piano, fingers poised over the keys, ready to play. Sirius set Phoebe down on an armchair to watch, then he and Barbara stood in the center of the room, their arms crossed in front of them. All the Weasleys and the Tonks family lined up against the back wall behind them, so Harry, Hermione, Penelope and the Greengrass women followed. Sirius and Barbara smiled around at everyone again. (Needless to say, none of the Malfoys had agreed to join in.)

"All right, everyone, let's get in the Christmas mood!" Sirius began happily. "Grab your partner and away we go!"

Regulus started to play a jaunty, catchy tune. All the Weasleys ran to Sirius and Barbara, with the rest following. Sirius sang first, and everyone who knew the lyrics sang along with him:

"Mother, Mother, everybody's starving, Mother, Mother, let's eat!"

Then Barbara sang: "Hold your horses, got a million courses, and I'm fixin' country!"

Sirius began singing a solo as he and everyone else started skipping around Barbara: "Hermione and Harry, go and help Barbara! Daphne and Astoria, you too! Ron and Ginny, go and get your brothers, then fetch Holly, and Pheebs!"

Everyone lined up and sang, "Mother, Mother, everybody's happy, got a reason to smile!"

Barbara broke away and skipped across the long line of people, singing, "Cause you know that I'm about to serve a Christmas Dinner, Country Style!"

And then they all repeated it back: "CHRISTMAS DINNER, COUNTRY STYLE!"

Harry was doing his best to follow Ron and everyone else who knew the song as they all danced. It was actually pretty fun, and extremely catchy, so he was beginning to forget his nerves. Sirius was right; all he had to do was follow what everybody else was doing. At one point, everyone started splitting into pairs, so he quickly grabbed Hermione, although most people just grabbed whoever was closest to them. Since Regulus was busy playing the piano, Ron got to have Holly as his partner; Harry had the feeling he was very pleased about this. It was even more surprising, though, when Draco kind of sidled his way in and grabbed Astoria's hand before anyone else could. Harry and Ron exchanged a look of surprise. Sirius was singing along with Barbara now:

"Now sashay along that country ham, and double-sashay, marshmallow yam! Swing to the left, some chestnut stuffing and a swing to the right, a huckleberry muffin! Now time for your partner to reach across, and do-si-do the cranberry sauce!"

The couples danced in groups of four, with whoever was closest; Harry and Hermione got Remus and Tonks. It was a good thing those two knew what they were doing, because Harry and Hermione didn't. Then they split off into pairs again, some showing fancy moves, some not.

Finally, after a lot of dancing and skipping around the room together, the couples separated and everyone stood in two rows, except for Barbara and Sirius, who came to the front again. Sirius sang out, loud and clear:

"Oh, the dinner was grand, to say the least, so honor the lady who cooked the feast!"

Everyone but Barbara, including Sirius, sang, "Mother, Mother, thank you for the dinner, all the fixin's were great!"

Barbara sang as she mimed stirring a mixing bowl, "Nothin' to it, mighty glad to do it, seeing how much you ate!"

Then everyone started dancing in a circle around Sirius, singing, "Everybody, go and clear the table! Come on, Father, let's dance!"

Sirius, holding his stomach exaggeratedly, sang, "I'm too full of turkey and stuffing, I ain't taking the chance!"

Then everyone lined up again; Sirius linked arms with Barbara and they skipped together across the long line of dancers as everyone sang, "It's a very merry, merry Christmas, got a reason to smile! Mother, Mother, everybody loved your Christmas Dinner, Country Style! CHRISTMAS DINNER, COUNTRY STYLE!"

Regulus played the final chords, and everyone cheered. Harry had the feeling they would be doing this every Christmas for a long time. Even little Phoebe in her armchair was laughing at everyone being so silly. Sirius ran over to her, hoisted her up into his arms again, and sang, "It's a very merry, merry Christmas, got a reason to smile!"

Harry knew Sirius would do _anything_ to get Phoebe to smile, and when she did, letting out a loud screech of laughter, you might as well have given him one million Galleons. Phoebe might have Regulus's eyes, but she had her father's smile.

"That was wonderful," came the voice of Mrs. Weasley, up out of the basement kitchen. "How would everyone like a good Christmas feast for real?"

Everyone cheered and headed up to the formal dining room. Harry figured Mrs. Weasley and Barbara would be an unstoppable cooking force, especially with the other women helping out. And it turns out he was right. Mrs. Weasley taught Barbara some recipes her family had passed on through the years (especially her fudge and cheesy casserole) and Barbara made latkes, chili dogs, matzoh ball soup, treacle tart, and applesauce (because that was Regulus's favorite). There were three turkeys. Just like in the song, Christmas brunch was grand, to say the least.

Kreacher was using the high chair, as usual, so Sirius conjured another one for Phoebe. She was still mostly on breastmilk, supplemented by baby formula, but she was starting to eat baby food, too. She got more on her face and the floor than in her tummy, though, and at one point she sneezed, spraying strained peas or carrots or whatever it was across the table and all over the walls. Luckily, Sirius's Scouring Charm took care of the mess.

Just like in the song, after dinner, everyone was too full to dance after they ate. After the dishes were bewitched to clean themselves, everyone went back down into the drawing room and Regulus headed to the piano again.

"I don't think we're done singing carols, are we?" he said with a smile. "Any ideas?"

"Blue Christmas?" Harry suggested. That song had a bit of a jazzy style, and Holly's voice was just perfect for that.

"Perfect." Holly cleared her throat. "Take it away, honey."

Regulus started to play the opening chords on the ancient piano, and then Holly started to sing. Sirius gently rocked Phoebe, who was listening with her eyes closed, a smile upon her face. Her skin, like Sirius's, was fair, although her cheeks were pink. Harry couldn't help smiling as he saw one of her tiny baby hands wrap itself around a strand of Sirius's long hair. Regulus played an amazing piano solo right in the middle of the song, and everybody clapped politely when he finished.

Remus and Tonks, accompanied by Andromeda's guitar, sang "Baby, It's Cold Outside," which was kind of a weird song. Regulus sang "Oh Come All Ye Faithful." Sirius sang "O Holy Night," and then Holly did, too. Sirius sang a song called "We Need a Little Christmas," which was from a play, Andromeda sang "Silent Night," and finally, Sirius started a song called, "Home for the Holidays." It started slow, then got faster, sort of like the song he sang at his wedding. Regulus's piano fingers showed no signs of tiring, and Andromeda played her guitar, too. Once she started to sing, flipping her elbow-length brown hair over her shoulder to get it out of the way, everyone else started singing, too. The ending was great:

"Oh, there's no place like home for the holidays, 'cause no matter how far away you roam, if you want to be happy in a million ways, for the holidays you can't beat home…sweet…home!"

After a lot of singing, it was time to open presents. There was a huge, majestic tree in the drawing room, and everyone stared at it admiringly. It was much more beautiful than the presents underneath it. However, Harry didn't mind opening presents, either. He got Hermione a book about famous witches and wizards in history, and he got Ron some Chudley Cannons Quidditch robes. Finally, there was just one present underneath the tree. Ron went over to check; it was addressed to Holly Greengrass.

"Here you go, Holly," said Ron, handing it to her. "It's from Regulus."

It was a medium-sized, flat box, the kind a dress or shirt might come in. Sure enough, when Holly opened the box, there was a pretty dress inside, long, with shades of red and black, with some white gloves to match.

"This is wonderful, Reg," said Holly, lifting the dress out of the box. "I'll think of you ever time I wear—wait, what's this?"

Everyone looked. On the floor there was a very small, very old piece of parchment.

"Read it," Regulus said gently, picking it up and handing it to her.

"But it's addressed to _you_ ," Holly pointed out, looking both nervous and confused. "And it's dated back to 1978."

"Yes." Regulus nodded. "But I do think you should read it."

"Well…o-okay," said Holly, and she read the note:

 _Dear Regulus,_

 _Times of war are upon us. Times of war, division and uncertainty. If you are reading this note, I am most likely already dead. None of us know when our times will come; therefore, since you are next in line to inherit the Head of House title, I am leaving the majority of the Black family heirlooms to you. In the Black Family vault, you will find many of my treasures, much more than you would even in Black Manor, but the one I am enclosing here is perhaps the most precious of all. I want you to keep it close to your heart. Keep it until you find someone you love as dearly as I love you._

 _Love, Mum_

"Regulus, what…" Holly began, looking more confused, but Regulus was already bending down on one knee.

"Holly Annabelle Greengrass," he said, "will you take my hand in marriage?"

Everyone gasped as he opened a tiny black velvet box he had carefully withdrawn from the pocket of his robes. Harry's mouth was open in shock. The ring in the box was the same one Harry had seen last summer in the Black Family vault—Walburga's gigantic emerald engagement ring.

Now it all made sense. _That_ was why he allowed her to sleep over. _That_ was why he was so stressed out last night. _That_ was why he had returned his diamond ring. _That_ was why he had gotten so emotional last summer when he read his mother's letter. _That_ was why he was so reluctant to tell anyone what was going on in his relationship with Holly. This wasn't the first time they thought Regulus had chickened out on something when really, he was planning something big, nor was this the first time he had executed a shocking jewelry swap. But it was astounding all the same.

"You're kidding me," Holly said hoarsely.

"I kid you not," said Regulus. "What do you say, darling?"

"What do I _say!_ Of _course_ I'll marry you!" Holly was wiping away tears with her right hand as Regulus slipped the emerald ring onto her left.

"Every emperor needs an empress to rule by his side," Regulus told her, straightening up.

"Your mother said to keep this ring until you found someone worthy," Holly said. "And you chose to give it to _me?"_

"I think she'd agree with my choice," Regulus said warmly, sitting back onto the couch and putting his arm around his new fiancée.

"Are you sure about that, broski?" said Sirius. "She _was_ a Gryffindor, you know…"

"Shh!" said Barbara. "You'll ruin the moment!"

She was watching, teary-eyed, along with everyone else as Regulus and Holly melted into their most romantic kiss yet.

"Sirius," said Regulus, once they'd separated. "Will you be Best Man?"

"I'd be honored," Sirius replied with a grin.

"Oh, Holly!" Barbara shrieked, throwing her arms around Holly. "We'll be sisters!"

"It'll be great!" Holly cried, hugging her right back.

Harry thought that was the end of it, but that was when he saw Cassiopeia get up off the couch and walk slowly over to them. She set her cane down on the ground in front of Holly, then sunk into a deep curtsy.

"Lady Black," she said respectfully, holding out her hand. Holly shook it, looking bewildered, but all the Blacks lined up behind Cassiopeia then, even Narcissa, who broke away from her husband to join the line. Everyone bowed or curtsied; when Harry noticed his godfather getting up, Harry stood up and bowed, too. Lucius and Draco were standing by the wall with scowls on their faces. Harry knew that in the pureblood pecking order, the Blacks were far above the Malfoys, and Lucius had probably been hoping the family would die out. _Ha_ , said Harry in his head.

"Welcome to the House of Black," Andromeda said with a grin. "We're glad to have you."

"I'm sure this will be a long and happy marriage," Holly said, taking Regulus's hand in her own. Everyone cheered again. Most of the women were crying. Harry was still just so shocked. This was even more surprising than Sirius's accidental proposal to Barbara a year and a half ago, if that was even possible.

Aunt Lucretia wrapped her arms around Holly and Regulus both, squeezing them so tightly they almost suffocated.

"Oh, this is wonderful!" she sobbed. "Walburga's engagement ring! Oh, Regulus, darling, if she could just see you now…"

Regulus's face went red, but he was still smiling, and Holly laughed, but then—

"Ouch!" she cried.

"What?" said Regulus.

"This ring _burned_ me," said Holly. Even though it had magically shrunk to fit her finger when she put it on, it had gotten a little big again and fallen off. The ring flashed gold again, and Regulus picked it up and examined it once it was cool.

"Oh my God," he said. "It's my father's handwriting!"

Holly took the ring and read the message engraved inside:

 _I know I would have loved her too._


	52. New Term, New Problems

Especially compared to Christmas, New Year's Eve was fairly uneventful. Harry was too sleepy to stay up until midnight, and anyway, there was no countdown on TV to watch. Every year with the Dursleys, they watched a New Year's Eve celebration on TV, and Harry always thought it must be so exciting to be there. But at Black Manor, there was no TV, although, as Sirius cheekily pointed out, Regulus and Holly had found other ways to entertain themselves.

Holly seemed to have forgotten about her flat in Hogsmeade; she spent the rest of Winter Break at #12, Grimmauld Place with her new fiancé. They spent suspiciously long amounts of time in his bedroom on the seventh floor, and they went to bed early every night, New Year's Eve excepted. Obviously, any qualms Regulus ever had about getting intimate with her had evaporated.

"It _is_ great to see him so happy," Sirius said to Harry as they sat on the nice couch in the drawing room, watching Regulus and Holly snuggling up to each other, half-past nine on New Year's Eve. "I mean, you'd never have guessed it of him, would you?"

"No, especially considering he said he didn't have time for a wife, and she all but gave up on men," Harry replied.

"They just needed to meet the right person," Sirius said.

"Yeah," said Harry, yawning and stretching so that one of his hands accidentally knocked Sirius's head. "Oops, sorry, Sirius."

"Don't be," Sirius said with a grin. "I guess you might as well be getting off to bed."

"I know," Harry said sleepily, standing up and heading for the staircase. "G'night, Sirius."

"Goodnight," Sirius said back, settling back onto the couch with a champagne class filled with grape juice.

…

Going back to school was not the best thing for Harry, of course. Over Winter Break, he had worked with Regulus, and it seemed that he was getting better in controlling when he spoke Parseltongue, although as of yet he hadn't been able to speak it without looking at a real snake; he supposed that would come later. At least, he hoped so.

The good news was that he got to get back to Sirius's Defense classes. Most of the students had been begging him to teach the moves he'd used when dueling Snape. Today they were learning _Oppogno_ , the spell that influenced objects to attack.

"Everyone take one, and try to use it to attack your enemy," Sirius said, holding up a bag of cotton balls. "Not that they'll hurt anyone, but these are for practice."

Defense was Harry's best subject, and he practiced on Hermione. Both of them ended up getting pelted by cotton balls, and they laughed.

Less enjoyable was resuming Holly's Our Changing Bodies class. The first class back was the most uncomfortable one yet, because this was the one in which Holly taught them that "period" didn't always refer to punctuation. All the boys knew virtually zilch about this, and most of them didn't see why they needed to know. They didn't dare cry out in disgust, though, because Holly would probably murder them if they did.

"You need to know," said Holly matter-of-factly, "because someday you might have a girlfriend, and she'll want you to be sympathetic to her."

"Sympathetic?" someone repeated in confusion.

"Well, for many girls, a period can be a painful nightmare," Holly replied. "So the least you can do is understand."

Nobody said what everyone was thinking: how could a boy understand such a female thing?

"You should just do whatever your girlfriend or wife wants you to do," Holly continued. "If she's a good person, she'll appreciate it—and you. And if she's angry, don't tell her it's because of her period, unless you want your lights knocked out."

It was kind of hard to imagine bleeding for days on end, but then, for most of that day the classroom was as quiet as the grave. Holly had them all study a week-by-week breakdown of the process, and…well, it didn't really clear things up as much as she'd hoped. It made the frontier of growing up look that much scarier, even if they weren't the ones who had to deal with it. What else was there to learn about? What other questions hadn't been answered? If this was what girls had to go through, what horrors were waiting to shock the _boys_ , as _they_ moved on through their teenage years and beyond?

Nobody said much after class, and when Harry, Ron and Neville got back to the Gryffindor common room, Barbara was waiting for them there with Phoebe. Sirius wasn't there. Harry wanted to ask where he was, but he was having problems speaking.

"Are you guys okay?" Barbara asked. "You look like you haven't got an ounce of blood in your body."

All three boys just glanced at each other, not at all pleased she'd put it that way.

"What did you learn today?" Barbara continued. "What, are you guys studying the sex unit already?"

Neville groaned and fell back against the couch. Ron shook his head grimly.

"Seriously, what's wrong?" Barbara asked. "What did she _do?"_

"We just learned about…well, uh…" Harry was searching for the right words to say. "What, um…happens to you—every month…"

"Oh, _that_ ," said Barbara with a laugh. "Look, I know it makes a lot of guys uncomfortable, but think of it this way: a girl getting her period is just another bodily function. Like going to the bathroom. It's just human waste."

"Well, Holly said it really hurts," Harry continued, reluctantly. Maybe it was because he'd been living with her for so long, but Barbara was easier to talk to than Holly. And, of course, he had never imagined Barbara in a slinky black nightgown with a slit up the side.

"For some girls, it does hurt," Barbara agreed. "But for others, it doesn't. I mean, one girl might have a period that lasts for three days, can be predicted down to the hour, and doesn't give her any pain at all…while another girl might have seven days' worth of utter hell every month. It just depends on your genetics—and your luck.

"I don't know why you're so worried, anyway," she continued, looking at them. "I mean, it doesn't happen to boys."

"It's just kind of weird," Ron said finally, and the other two nodded.

"Weird, yes…" Barbara nodded, then grinned. "Also, it caused one of the most embarrassing moments of my entire life."

"What happened?" Harry asked, in spite of himself.

"Well, when it first happened to me, I was only ten and I hadn't taken my sex ed class yet," Barbara explained. "I had no idea what was going on, so I panicked and called the paramedics. They tried to explain it to me, but it wasn't really working. Then when my mother came home, they told the story to her, and she reached out and grabbed me like this—" (Barbara squeezed Harry so tight he could barely breathe) "and shrieked, 'Baby!' at the top of her lungs. She started crying, gave me a speech on how great it was that I had become a woman, and called up _every single person she knew_ and told them. I just about _died_."

That seemed just like the sort of thing that would happen to Barbara, so by the time she finished the story, all three of the boys were laughing. Several minutes later, the second-year Gryffindor girls filed in, but they weren't talking and giggling amongst each other as usual. Even when Harry waved to her, Hermione blushed slightly before she waved back. Harry was shocked; he had actually made Hermione blush.

"How's it going, Hermione?" Barbara asked.

Hermione plunked her books onto the table. "Fine."

"How was sex ed?" Barbara continued airily.

"It was enlightening," said Hermione, but she didn't offer any more.

"Need help filling out a male anatomy diagram?" Barbara said, her eyes laughing.

"No, I _don't_ , thank you very much," Hermione answered, glaring at her.

Obviously, the girls had started their unit on the male anatomy. It was pretty awkward to have to study equipment that you, personally, weren't born with, so no wonder they were acting a little…off. But now the girls had some idea of what the boys had under their robes, which was almost too embarrassing to even think about.

Hermione had taken out her Astronomy book and was flipping through it when Sirius finally walked in.

"Hi, Sirius," said Harry, giving him a smile. "Where were you?"

"Grading some papers," Sirius replied with a sigh. "I think I like Care of Magical Creatures better than I like Defense, to be honest." Looking tired, he slowly sunk into a chair next to Barbara. "So what have you all been up to?"

"They've been learning about the anatomy of the opposite sex," Barbara told him. "That's why they're so quiet. I was just telling them about what happened with me and my mother and the paramedics. I told you that story, didn't I?"

"You did." Sirius laughed. "That was simply horrible."

"That's just how Mum is," Barbara replied. "She was _so_ emotional about her _little girl_ growing up that she just _had_ to share it with _everyone_."

Barbara's experience did indeed sound horrible, even if it was just a funny anecdote to her now. Harry remembered that time at Black Manor last summer when he woke up with the sheets wet and sticky, and Sirius took the time to explain why, just so Harry wouldn't feel ashamed or embarrassed or awkward or confused. What if Sirius had called up everyone he knew and blabbed about it? Granted, that didn't seem like something Sirius would do—but it was _completely_ believable of Gwen.

…

Days later in January, Regulus contacted Sirius by Floo to let him know that Dylan had been captured by the Pizza Mafia, and Papa Pepe said they would only let him go if they received the secret deep-dish formula. But it seemed they changed their minds, because they gave Dylan back the very next day.

"Papa Pepe says keep him," one of the representatives had said. "He's a fate worse than death."

The good news, though, was that Dylan had been wearing a wire, and caught some important information on Papa Pepe and his associates.

"Why was Dylan wearing a wire?" Harry asked, as Regulus gave him and Sirius the update through the beautiful stone Gryffindor fireplace.

"He said Ashley told him to," said Regulus.

"Why would she do that?" Sirius asked. "Does she have any reason to spy on you at all?"

"I asked her, and she said she suspected something like this would happen," said Regulus with a shrug. "I know she's not the most trustworthy person ever, but like you said, there's nothing she could gain from spying on me. But anyway—I decided to give Dylan an extension."

"What?" said Harry.

"I'm keeping him on," Regulus said with a shrug. "I know, I know he's quite a few Sickles short of a Galleon, but we're understaffed, and he means well, anyway. It's better than nothing."

"Well, then, you should at least make him stop bothering me," said Sirius, and left it at that.


	53. The Brain Probe Returns

Two weeks into January, things had been going rather smoothly; there were no more Petrifications as of yet, and everyone seemed a little calmer after going a couple months without an attack. They weren't giving Harry such a wide berth in the hallways, for one thing. Life was falling into place again, until Barbara called them via the Floo network.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were sitting around the fire doing their homework when they heard Barbara's voice—

"Hey, you guys! Where's Sirius?"

All three of them jumped, but Harry recovered quickly. Barbara's head was sitting right there in the fire; she had on her magical earrings, which would allow her to see past the spells that would normally prevent her kind from ever seeing Hogwarts—and, Harry realized, she had actually managed to work Floo powder all by herself. But she was smiling, so Harry knew she couldn't be reporting very grave news.

"Uh, he's in his teacher's quarters," said Harry. "I mean, he doesn't live here, you know."

"Bet he'd like to," Barbara said cheerfully. "Anyway, Harry, you and Sirius have had a phone call from Dr. Stefansen. He'd like to see you."

"See me? _Now?"_ Harry didn't want to see Dr. Stefansen. The shrink had a good reputation in his field, apparently, but in Harry's opinion, his bedside manner left a lot to be desired.

"Well…yeah," said Barbara. Her smile quickly faded; Harry could hear Phoebe screeching in the background. "Oh, dear—can you guys get Sirius to Apparate out of Hogwarts? I just can't deal with it—"

"That would be Disapparating, and in any case, you can't do either inside the Hogwarts grounds," Hermione informed her.

"I'll get him," said Harry, knowing Sirius had his own ways of getting into Hogsmeade. It was no surprise, either, that Barbara wanted him there to look after Phoebe. She loved her daughter dearly, Harry didn't doubt that for a minute, but the long duration of her pregnancy clearly hadn't been enough to prepare her for motherhood.

Harry left Ron and Hermione talking with Barbara by the fireside, and walked to Sirius's office. Maybe he should just conveniently "forget" about the phone call…but Barbara would surely tell Sirius herself, if Harry didn't. And there was no rule against leaving the school for a weekend as long as your parent or guardian gave permission. Maybe Harry could convince Sirius that he needed to stay here…to study? Maybe?

"Hello, Harry," said Sirius when he opened the door. "What do you need?"

"Barbara needs you in Hogsmeade," Harry muttered. "Phoebe's being fussy."

"Oh, dear," said Sirius. "Well, the one-eyed witch isn't far away…I'll go and sort things out."

"Wait," said Harry. "There's another thing. Barbara says Dr. Stefansen called. He wants to set up an appointment."

"Hmm…" Sirius pursed his lips. "Well. Okay."

The first time Sirius and Dr. Stefansen had met, they'd had a row. Sirius had, anyway. Dr. Stefansen had basically sat there and let Sirius rage at him, as if he'd been verbally attacked by plenty of patients before—and he probably had. Dr. Stefansen had said once to Harry that patients often developed "transference," which could apply to anything, but often referred to the patient's feelings about the therapist. Dr. Stefansen once said that Sirius's tragic past, especially his childhood, was reflected in his behavior during therapy, but Harry didn't know too much about these types of things, so he didn't try to understand it.

…

The appointments were made for the second weekend of January, halfway through the month. Sirius and Harry both had their own, and although Harry wanted Sirius to sit in on his appointments, he didn't want to do the same for Sirius; he didn't need to hear the things Sirius could possibly be telling the shrink. What he already knew was far too much, starting with what he had heard about a teenage Sirius—when he got too big for Walburga to slap him around anymore, she wasn't above sending a Blasting Curse his way, if not something even more dreadful, whenever the mood struck her. That was one good thing Harry could say about being raised in an abusive Muggle home, or abused by a Muggle; at least there was no chance you'd be _magically_ abused!

Harry's appointment was first. He shuffled into the room, Sirius on his heels.

"Hello, Mr. Potter," said Dr. Stefansen, his bald head shining under the lights of the room. "Please, do lie down on the couch. Mr. Black, do you need a chair?"

"Not if he wants to sit on the couch, too," Harry suggested.

"Sure," said Sirius. "I'll do that."

"How is it going, then, Mr. Potter?" asked Dr. Stefansen, eyeing Harry, although Harry was staring up at the ceiling, flat on his back on the couch. "What's going on in your life? Any goals you want to discuss? Disturbing thoughts?"

"Not really."

"Well, when I first met you, I was giving you a psychological evaluation," said Dr. Stefansen. "You seemed very shaken up, as I recall. We were talking about how you needed to have more self-confidence. Have you worked on that any?"

"Uh, I think I have some more," said Harry. "Being at school helps. It's not like my old school."

"Well, I'm glad to hear you're improving, Mr. Potter," Dr. Stefansen finally said.

Harry spent some more time talking with the shrink. They also did coloring, which Harry felt he was a little too old for, but he didn't want to hurt Dr. Stefansen's feelings. Sirius actually took to the coloring more than Harry did, which was pretty funny. Dr. Stefansen asked them to draw their happiest memories, and Harry drew a picture of the day he met Sirius at the zoo; Sirius's eyes filled with tears, and he hugged Harry tight.

Sirius looked like he was debating over what to draw for his own happiest memory, but he finally picked the day Phoebe was born. Of course, that was one of Harry's happiest memories, too. They also had to draw pictures of their families; Harry drew the family he lived with now, but he included his parents in the picture, too, and he even added a cat, because Sirius told him his parents had a cat. Then Sirius drew a little rat right in the cat's claws.

"Too bad their cat never ate Wormtail," he explained, and Harry laughed.

After that, it was time for Sirius's therapy session. Harry didn't want to sit in on that one; he went to wait out in the hall. Sirius had gone through so many bad things, and he was still nice. Hadn't Barbara said, the summer before last, that what Sirius did for Harry was "amazing"? Sirius's therapy session took longer, although at least there was no shouting that Harry could hear.

Finally, Sirius came out of the therapy room. Dr. Stefansen looked quite at peace, like usual, but Sirius was a little pale and anxious-looking. They all waved goodbye, and Sirius and Harry left.

"What did you guys do?" Harry asked.

"We had to do exposition therapy," Sirius said with a shrug. "He made me talk a lot about my childhood a lot, and we discussed how it can affect who I am today, and my relationships. We were about to talk about James and Lily, but then the time was up. I was kind of relieved."

"I would've been, too," said Harry, holding Sirius's hand as they walked to a place where there were no Muggles, and they could Apparate home.

…

About a week and a half later, Sirius had interesting news.

"As you all may know," Sirius said at breakfast one day, "February is almost here. And that means, so is Valentine's Day. So if anyone cares to come, I'm inviting the whole school to a Valentine's Day Dance in the Great Hall!"

Some of the students looked happy, others apprehensive. There were students who looked downright sickened, but a lot of the couples hugged and kissed each other passionately.

"It will be held on Valentine's Day night," Sirius continued. "Come one, come all!"

Harry and Hermione looked at each other in surprise, and Harry swallowed. This would be his first school dance as her boyfriend. What was he going to do?


	54. In Harmony

"Open up!" Harry hollered, pounding on the door to Sirius's office. "Open the door!"

"For the love of Merlin, calm down." Sirius opened the door and frowned. "What's wrong?"

"What's _wrong?_ You can be a real jerk sometimes, that's what's wrong!" Harry snapped, punching Sirius in the arm for good measure.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Sirius replied, lifting his nose into the air.

"Don't play dumb with me!" said Harry furiously. "I can't believe you started a stupid school dance—especially without telling me! This is going to be a disaster."

"School dances are fun, not a disaster," Sirius told him. "Why, I remember the Snow Ball back in November 1974—"

"Oh, come on!" Harry cried. "It's not the same! I mean…I've never gone to a school dance before."

"There's a first time for everything," Sirius said patiently.

"I don't have to _do_ everything, either," Harry said back. "But now that Hermione has heard about this dance, I'm sure she'll want me to go with her. Can't you just say it's for upperclassmen only or something?"

"Well, I _could_ ," Sirius said, sitting up on his desk. "But I really shouldn't. I don't know why you're so reluctant to go, anyway. Don't you enjoy Hermione's company?"

"Yeah, of course…But I don't know how to act at a school dance."

"Just enjoy yourself, have fun, that's all," said Sirius with a smile. "There aren't any rigid rules. Not even Hermione will be walking around with a gradebook judging your performance. I expect it'll be a lot like the wedding, actually."

"Maybe," said Harry reluctantly.

"They really are fun," Sirius told him. "In fact, school dances are one of the things I miss the most about school. I went to every single one."

"And I suppose you took a different girl to every single one, too, didn't you?" Harry said warily.

"Marlene McKinnon was my only steady girlfriend at Hogwarts," Sirius said. "You know, I had been with a lot of other girls, but it didn't last for more than a month. But there was something special about Marlene; I liked her more than the others. I guess I just like girls from different Houses."

"She wasn't a Gryffindor?" Harry asked interestedly.

"No. Ravenclaw."

"So what happened after school, then?" Harry raised an eyebrow. "You dumped her, like all the others?"

"No." Sirius turned to face Harry, then, and something dark flickered in his eyes. "She got killed by Death Eaters. They got her whole family."

"Oh…" Harry sank into Sirius's desk chair, feeling horrible. He didn't know what to say.

"I went to pick her up for a date one night, and the Dark Mark—Voldemort's signature—was hovering above her house…" Sirius gave a deep sigh and turned away. "Death Eaters sent that shape up into the sky whenever they killed, and when I saw it above Marlene's house, I knew what I'd find inside…"

"Sirius, I'm sorry," Harry spluttered. "I-I didn't mean to—"

"They were all dead," Sirius continued, his facial expression turning from sadness to anger. "And the autopsy at the hospital revealed that Marlene _and_ her mother were sexually assaulted before they were killed."

Harry noticed how Sirius flexed his fingers furiously a couple times, like he wanted to squeeze them tightly around someone's throat, and he stood up, then, wrapping his arms around his godfather.

"I'm really, really sorry," he repeated.

"Oh, don't worry about it," Sirius muttered. "I'm just so sick of people dying and disappearing and getting hurt…This whole Chamber of Secrets ordeal reminds me so much of when Voldemort was strong and they were picking us off one by one. You know what I mean?"

"No," Harry said truthfully. "I was just a little baby."

"The little baby who saved us all," said Sirius, and he smiled. "But more importantly…one of the few rays of sunshine in my life."

…

All the rest of that day, though, Harry was confused. Sirius's relationship with Marlene hadn't been cut off by a breakup, which Harry realized he had always assumed. It was cut off by her death. So did that mean he was still in love with her? But if he was, what about Barbara? Could you be in love with two women at the same time—and what changed if one of them died? Harry couldn't think of anyone he could discuss this with, so he tried to stop thinking about it, pushing it to the back of his mind.

That night, his dreams weren't peaceful; they involved Hermione and her nice dentist parents dying. On the night Harry planned to take her to the Valentine's dance, it was Hermione who died. Just when he thought they'd have a good night together, it was Hermione who was the victim of the Killing Curse, lying motionless on the floor.

But over the next few weeks, perhaps luckily, he didn't have much time to dwell on it; as the sun soon began to shine weakly over the castle, the dance, of course, was the only thing anyone wanted to talk about. Harry, Ron, and Hermione all agreed that there should be some kind of theme.

"We should do House Colors again, like that party of Regulus's," Ron suggested.

"Well, it was mostly an excuse to talk to Holly," Harry reminded him. "But yeah, that's a great idea. Sirius says there was a huge House Pride trend going on when he was at school."

"Oh, I don't think I want to do that again," said Hermione. "We should do a vintage theme. You know, we could play old music, the girls could dress in 1950's-style party dresses, and the guys could wear suits with fedoras—and plenty of hair gel."

Harry tried to picture himself in a fedora.

"Or we could do a Valentine colors theme," she continued. "The girls could dress in pink, white and red, and the boys could dress all in black."

"Snape won't have to buy any new clothes, then," said Ron, bursting into laughter, and so did Harry. Hermione looked disapproving.

"You think he's going to the dance?" she said skeptically. "He doesn't even have a date."

"Dumbledore will make him, I'll bet," Ron told her. "And anyway, I like the second idea. Ginny says black is one of the colors that doesn't clash with red hair."

"And you couldn't look in a mirror and figure that out for yourself?" said Hermione, gesturing to her black uniform robes.

"Whatever it is, we'll have to tell Sirius about it," Harry told them, trying to avoid a fight before it happened. "Then he can tell the rest of the school."

…

Harry told Sirius and Barbara about the ideas they had. Barbara liked the vintage theme; Sirius liked the House Pride theme, but since they'd already done that one, and the vintage theme did sound fine to him anyway, that was the one they agreed on. The next day at breakfast, he announced it to the whole Great Hall.

"Ooh, I bet I'll look so pretty in a 1950's dress!" Lavender Brown was heard saying.

"I have to invest in some hair gel," added Seamus Finnigan.

"No, you don't," said Harry with a smirk. "I'm sure Sirius has enough hair gel for all of us."

"I'm not very good at dancing," Neville said nervously. "My gran's been signing me up for lessons, but I keep messing up."

"Well, I'm sure you don't have to dance if you don't want to," Hermione said kindly. "Do you think you have anyone you want to ask?"

"Not really," said Neville, glancing around. Nobody at the Gryffindor table really seemed to appeal to him. Ron was looking disinterested, too.

"I have an idea," said Hermione. "Why don't we go as a 'group of friends'?"

"Come off it," Harry scoffed. "You've seen _Love and Lust_. Any time someone goes as a group of friends, at least one of the characters always wants something more."

Hermione stared at him. "Harry, we _are_ something more, the last time I checked."

"Oh…right," said Harry, feeling like an idiot. "Um, will you go to the dance with me?"

"Yes, of course." Hermione rolled her eyes. "But anyway, if we go as dates, but bring Ron and Neville _with_ us, they could come to the dance too without looking stupid, and maybe they can meet someone, too."

…

The Valentine's Day Dance was approaching. Most of the students were either nervous, excited, or both. Harry was definitely more excited than nervous, as were his roommates. The day before the dance, they stayed up very late talking; Valentine's Day fell on a Sunday that year, so they could stay up as late as they wanted.

"Who are _you_ going with?" Ron asked Dean.

"Eh…nobody," Dean said. Harry could hear him, though he couldn't see him in the dark. "I might just not go."

"You _have_ to go!" Seamus insisted. " _I_ am, and you're my best friend."

"So what? You won't be all alone," said Harry. "Ron, Hermione, Neville and I are going."

"Oh, _stop_ ," Neville said miserably, sounding like he was regretting that decision.

"Are you afraid a girl is going to try to make improper advances on you or something?" Harry asked him. "Because if she is—"

"You shouldn't be complaining," Ron cut in, and everyone but Neville laughed.

"It's a really scary thought!" Neville cried. "I don't get it, I really don't. I mean, how do you talk to a girl?"

"Um, like a human being?" said Harry snippily, then paused. "Okay, it definitely looks like I'm channeling Barbara now."

"Don't worry about it, Neville," said Ron. "I'm sure everything will be fine."

"Pleasant dreams," Seamus added.

And indeed they were; Harry dreamed of those chocolate-brown eyes all night long.


	55. Valentine's Day

The dance was to start at seven that evening (in place of dinner, since there would be refreshments at the dance) and end at midnight. On Valentine's morning, Harry tried to sleep in as late as he could, thankful as anything that it was Sunday, so he didn't have to think about the dance. But every time he tried to fall asleep, his eyes just kept opening again. By noon, he finally couldn't stand it any longer, so he went down to the Great Hall for lunch. Breakfast had ended at eleven, as it usually did on the weekends, and lunch started at half-past. So by the time Harry got downstairs, everyone else was already eating.

Harry was completely nervous, and after a while, he realized he could barely swallow any food at all. The only good thing about all this was that his roommates seemed nervous, too. Harry was the only one with a girlfriend, though, and he didn't know if that made it better or worse. Sirius was up at the High Table, wearing red robes with pink trim, looking completely composed.

Speaking of, that was when Dumbledore stood up and addressed the school. He was wearing bright pink robes and a pointed hat with hearts on it.

"I decided to save this announcement for lunch, seeing as how most of you slept through breakfast," he was saying. "As you probably know, it's Valentine's Day. Professor Black here has taken it upon himself to arrange our school's very first Valentine's Day Dance. Not only that, but he tells me that all day long anyone can purchase an Owl Candy Gram and have it sent to someone special, for the modest price of only one bronze Knut. Proceeds will go to the school bookstore."

"What's an Owl Candy Gram?" someone yelled, raising his hand.

"I'm glad you asked." Sirius stood up. "If you go to the Owlery anytime today, you'll notice a box of red lollipops attached to paper hearts sitting in a magically locked bin. Deposit one Knut and it'll open, and you can attach the Candy Gram to an owl, who will deliver it to the person of your choosing."

Harry looked at Hermione then. Last year, he sent her a valentine by accident—that is, a love letter he hadn't meant to send.

"Hmm…my parents say lollipops are bad for your teeth," she said with a grin.

"How about I save a dance for you instead?" Harry replied.

"Deal." Hermione stuck her hand out, still smiling, and Harry shook it.

Harry looked around the table, wondering if anyone else he knew was going to send a valentine. The problem was, the older kids were already kissing—not just kissing, but fully-fledged making out, stuck to each other's faces—and it was very disturbing.

"Is she eating his face?" Ron said disgustedly, pointing to a seventh-year couple sitting on the other side of the Gryffindor table.

"They're French-kissing," said Dean Thomas from a few seats away. "You know—kissing with your lips open."

"What if you have bad breath?" said Neville.

"You probably have to start planning it really early in the day, and make sure you don't eat anything with garlic in it," volunteered Lavender Brown. Her best friend, Parvati, nodded wisely.

"But _they_ don't look like they planned it," Hermione pointed out. "Kissing is spontaneous."

"Sirius would probably say that spontaneity is what makes it fun," Harry said, even though he didn't think he agreed.

…

Harry didn't know who sent a Candy Gram to whom that day, but he didn't think his roommates sent any. The teachers probably didn't, either, because they all seemed to be single, Sirius excepted, of course. Throughout the day, though, owls were delivering Candy Grams, so he knew a lot of people did send them. The school bookstore would be able to afford a lot more books and school supplies now, even though the truth was that probably 90% of the merchandise in there was stuff nobody really needed (another House Pride key chain, anyone?).

It didn't seem right to get Hermione nothing for Valentine's Day, though, so he stopped by the school bookstore and decided to get her a House Pride necklace. The Gryffindor and Hufflepuff necklaces were on gold chains (with a red lion and a black badger, respectively) and the Slytherin and Ravenclaw necklaces were made of sterling silver, with a green snake or blue eagle. Each necklace also had a matching pair of earrings, and they matched with the House Pride bracelets. Harry got a necklace for Hermione (but not the earrings, because her ears weren't pierced), both the necklace and the earrings for Barbara, and a bracelet for Phoebe. He couldn't decide at first which House to get, but since she had so much Gryffindor apparel already, he got her a Hufflepuff House bracelet, just like her mother's. Then he got two key chains (for himself and Ron), a onesie for Phoebe that read, "I went to Hogwarts and all I got was this stupid onesie," some golden parchment, a red-and-gold magical Gryffindor lion clay sculpture for Sirius that really roared, a Hufflepuff-themed music box for Phoebe, and he was about to buy some invisible ink when he snapped to and reminded himself that he didn't want to blow through the entirety of what his parents left him before he even hit his teens.

"I came in for one thing, and I got a million other things," Harry confessed, dumping all the merchandise onto the counter.

"Everyone says that," said the sixth-year Slytherin working the register, without a hint of sarcasm.

"Do you have a valentine, um…Norton?" said Harry, looking at the clerk's name tag.

"Obviously not, otherwise I wouldn't be working on Valentine's Day," said Norton, glaring. "I'm filling in for my friend, who _does_ have a valentine, and he's taking her to the dance."

"Oh…sorry," said Harry, feeling a little guilty.

"No matter," said Norton, shrugging as he put Harry's things into a bag. "I'm going stag."

"Stag?" said Harry, thinking of his father's Animagus form.

" _Alone_." Norton rolled his eyes. "Then I can dance with as many girls as I want."

"Oh," Harry said again. "Well, uh…have fun with that."

Walking back to Gryffindor Tower, clutching his purchases, Harry wondered if he would ever go "stag" to a dance. It didn't really appeal to him. Going with his valentine would be much better. Why would he want to dance with another girl if he already had her?

…

Both passion and tension increased as the clock crept ever closer to seven. When the clock struck six, Harry was running down the halls to Gryffindor Tower, where Sirius promised to help Harry and his roommates look presentable for the dance. Barbara had promised to do the same for Hermione and the other girls in her dorm.

As he rushed along, Harry wondered what the Founders were thinking when they decided Hogwarts should encompass wizards ages eleven through eighteen. You had students who were legally adults mixed in with students who had barely left childhood. All seven years would be better split into two schools, he decided, one for the younger students and one for the older. That way he would be in the second-oldest year as well as the second-youngest.

The problem with the huge age range was that the older kids acted so different. The older students were holding hands, squished together like they were made of glue, kissing each other on the cheek, the lips, the head, the hands…Harry held hands with Hermione, but he'd only kissed her twice, and besides, these students didn't even _savor_ their kisses. Harry previously thought a kiss was something special, something to remember, but these older kids just gave each other one after another. And behind the scenes, of course, these older students—some of them, anyway—were probably doing a lot more than kissing.

In sharp contrast, Valentine's Day made the younger classes completely awkward. Boys and girls skirted around each other in the hallways, like they did to Harry when they thought he'd Petrified all those people (in the absence of recent attacks, of course, and with other things to worry about, this had waned quite a bit). They avoided eye contact and avoided physical contact even more. They didn't even want to think about Valentine's Day. If they had a boyfriend or girlfriend, things might be a little different, but in your early teens, you were still learning what it meant to have a boyfriend or girlfriend. What it _felt_ like to have one.

As a result, Harry was relieved to get to his dorm, where Ron and the others were already waiting, freshly showered and wearing their dressing gowns, waiting for the clothes Sirius would bring them, probably business suits, Harry thought.

But then the door burst open again, and it turns out he'd thought wrong.

Sirius hadn't shaved. He wasn't wearing a business suit with shiny shoes and long black socks. He hadn't combed his long hair into a neat ponytail, like he usually did for formal occasions. Instead, he was wearing his fake-dragonhide boots, his old black pleather jacket, his blue DILF T-shirt, and some dark-wash jeans, which looked rather uncomfortably tight, as well as his black pleather belt with the huge golden Gryffindor lion belt buckle. He was wearing motorcycle gloves and holding a fake cigarette; his collar was popped, and gel had been smeared through his hair. He carelessly ran one hand through it, messing it up even more (yet it still fell elegantly back into place, Harry noticed with some jealousy).

"Evenin', fellas," he said with a charming smile and a little thumbs-up.

"Sirius, you were supposed to dress vintage!" Harry cried. (They had changed the theme from "fifties" to "vintage," so that they could play whatever music they wanted, but the aesthetic was going to be largely late forties to early sixties.)

"Haven't you ever seen _Grease?_ "

"Well…no, but I've heard of it," said Harry uncertainly.

"Good." Sirius grinned. "Anyway…I've got motorcycle jackets for all of you, too!"

Sirius handed out five leather jackets, one for each of them. Harry and his roommates dressed in jeans (which they rolled up at the bottoms), old T-shirts, and the motorcycle jackets Sirius had brought for them. He also gave them fake cigarettes, motorcycle gloves, and faux-dragonhide boots (Sirius had never worn an animal product in his life). Instead of motorcycle gloves, Harry wore his dad's dueling gloves, and Sirius said the blood was a nice touch. After they were all dressed, Sirius put enough gel in their hair to sink a ship (except Harry, who did his usual mousse), and they were ready to go. Harry thought he and Neville kind of looked out of place in their outfits, but of course Sirius didn't, and surprisingly, the getup seemed to work pretty well on Ron, Dean and Seamus.

It seemed they had finished early, because almost nobody else was there yet. Harry craned his neck, looking all around for Hermione, but she was nowhere to be found. Regulus, though, approached them. He looked exactly how Harry figured a businessman from the 1950's would look—an impeccable business suit, a trench coat, a fedora, shiny shoes, and copious amounts of hair gel. He was wearing his favorite Slytherin tie. Harry got the feeling he was surprised at Sirius's outfit.

"What are you supposed to be?" he snapped, looking Sirius up and down.

"I'm a motorcycle-driving, cigarette-smoking, leather-clad youth whose morals have been corrupted by comic books and rock and roll music," Sirius replied.

Regulus just rolled his eyes.

"Hey, where's Holly?" asked Ron, looking around.

"She's coming," said Regulus. "We agreed to meet here."

"Are you guys living together yet?" Sirius asked curiously.

"No, but she spends the night sometimes now…"

Harry tuned out then as Sirius and Regulus caught up, looking around for Hermione. Where _was_ she? And then, suddenly, he saw them.

It was Barbara he saw first, leading a line of girls. Her hair was styled in beautiful dark curls, going halfway down her back, topped with a pink headband. Her dress was filmy and baby pink, with a wide skirt and white belt. She was wearing Sirius's pearl necklace, pearl earrings and a pearl bracelet. She was wearing white stockings and her stilettos matched her dress. Her nails were painted a matching pink.

Next came Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil, best friends since practically their first day at Hogwarts. Harry knew Hermione thought they were a couple of birdbrains, but then, she had incredibly high standards; he didn't even see sometimes how he made the cut as her boyfriend. But as Harry should have expected, Lavender and Parvati were wearing matching poodle skirt outfits. Lavender's skirt was blue with a white top, while Parvati's was hot pink with a black top. They both had on knee-high white socks, black Mary-Jane shoes and long white gloves. They were both wearing beehive hairdos, with small bows that matched their skirts.

"Oh my God, Harry!" Lavender cried, running towards Harry. "Your godmother is _so cool!"_

"We _love_ makeovers!" Parvati added.

"You lot don't look so bad, yourselves," Barbara said with a grin, her high heels clicking on the stone floor as she walked towards Sirius, Harry, and all the others. Then she turned to Sirius, and her smile grew even wider. She took her hands in his.

"Why, what a beautiful lady," Sirius said, smiling back at her.

"And aren't you the picture of rebellion," Barbara replied flirtatiously. "You look exactly like the kind of guy my father would _love_ to put in cuffs."

"There's no jail that could ever hold me," Sirius said, giving her hands a squeeze.

"I swoon for you, Siri," said Barbara, falling dramatically backwards into his arms, and he caught her with a grin. Harry turned to Ron and mimed sticking his finger down his throat; Ron choked back a laugh.

"Oh, get a room, you two," said Regulus disgustedly.

"My sentiments exactly," Harry agreed, nodding. But that was when another two girls walked towards their group. Harry was hoping one of them was Hermione, but instead they were her other two roommates. Harry didn't know their names. They were pretty enough, he supposed; one girl's hair was dark and shining, sleek down her back; the other was a medium-length curly blonde. The blonde was wearing a flowy long baby blue dress with dark-blue flowers and black flats, while the brunette was wearing a yellow dress with yellow high heels and a purple bow. But Harry wasn't interested in them… _where was Hermione?_

As if reading Harry's thoughts, Barbara said, "Hermione's probably at the library. She said she had a book to return."

"Now?" said Ron in surprise, but Harry figured that was characteristic of Hermione. He only hoped she wouldn't forget the dance! And just as Harry was worrying that he would have to attend the dance without his date, that was when he saw someone else walking towards them. And finally, he realized, once the lights from above threw her into sharp relief…Hermione was here.

If Harry's jaw could drop onto the floor in shock, it would have. She didn't even look like the same girl. Her hair's bushiness was completely absent, like it had been at the wedding (no doubt courtesy of Barbara once more) and it was beautifully shiny, done up in a French twist. Her dress was purple, with a pink sash tied in a bow. She was the only one besides Barbara wearing heels (she had mastered them pretty quickly). They were pink, matching her long gloves and the sash around her waist. It was tied tight around the waist, giving her more of an hourglass-figure look, and apparently Barbara had employed some sort of push-up style secret that made her look just a little more endowed in that area. Her makeup was perfectly applied (as was all the other girls'). Undoubtedly, she was the prettiest girl in the room…and she probably would be, Harry thought, even after Holly showed up.

For a second, they just stared at each other. Hermione ran up to Harry, paused, grabbed his hands, and suddenly shrieked, "Isn't it amazing?!"

"Y-You're telling me!" was all Harry could choke out, and tried to calm down. "I-I mean…you look great. Really!"

"Thanks," she said, beaming.

"By the way," Lavender said, walking up to them, "have you met our other two roommates?"

"I don't believe he has," said the curly blonde. "I'm Sally-Anne Perks, and this is my best friend, the one and only Fay Dunbar."

"Nice to meet you," said Harry, waving, but uninterested. None of the girls could possibly compare to Hermione, of course.

"Well, I had better get the music started, then," Sirius said, turning away, but that was when Regulus let out a cry of shock.

There was Holly—except she wasn't in a dress like Barbara and all the others were. She was wearing extremely tight jeans that hugged her hips, thighs, and posterior in just the right way, a tight, striped, V-neck T-shirt, a black leather jacket, and black high heels. Her nails were painted black, and she was smoking a fake cigarette. She was wearing a ton of makeup, and it looked like she had used an entire bottle of hairspray.

"H-Holly!" Regulus kept gasping, staring at her. It looked like he'd been shot in the heart. Clearly, he hadn't asked her to dress like this—and nobody thought he would have, anyway. Harry could tell who the "dominant" one in this relationship was, and it sure wasn't Regulus.

"Tell me about it, square," she said with a grin, walking slowly but surely up to him and grabbing his hands.

"Looks like I'm not the only one who decided to defy society," Sirius said, obviously trying hard not to laugh, and Barbara let out a loud screech, like a seagull. Harry covered his ears, suddenly remembering that some women greeted each other that way.

"Oh my God!" Barbara shrieked, jumping up and down. "You look _great_ , Holly!"

"So do you!" Holly cried in response.

"I think it's time to see the ring again!" Barbara's voice was still very high and squealy.

"What, this?" said Holly mock-modestly, shoving her left hand out for everyone to see. Harry had forgotten just how huge the ring was. It probably really did hurt to be slapped by Walburga's hand when she was wearing that. Maybe someday Malfoy would piss Holly off enough that she would slap him, because heaven only knew her temper could get the better of her.

"Oh, it's _so_ beautiful!" Lavender and Parvati said in unison.

"It's helpful, too," Holly added. "For example, I almost always get sick this time of year, but I haven't been getting sick at all lately. And sometimes there are different messages inscribed on the ring and stuff. It always kind of glows and turns warm when it does that. I just feel happier and healthier overall."

"I'm sure it's my dad's magic, protecting his daughter-in-law," Sirius told her. Regulus still seemed unable to speak. "It might be able to protect the whole Black family."

"Then why didn't it protect her from the heart attack that killed her?" asked Harry, remembering how last year Regulus had said that heart failure was what killed both Orion and Walburga.

"Well, only Dark Magic tries to cheat death." Sirius shrugged. "I'm sure that ring has Dark Magic in it…but _probably_ not enough to save someone from death."

"Anyway, I've been meaning to tell you guys something," Holly said, turning to Harry and his roommates. "I won't be teaching the Our Changing Bodies class anymore. I have too much wedding planning to do, and I'm going to be working in advertising for Regulus's restaurant."

Harry and his roommates sighed with relief. Sure, they were going back to Snape, but even Snape was less awkward than a sexy, sassy, well-endowed witch who had only graduated from Hogwarts last year. They had just finished the pregnancy unit, which Harry was actually not that bad at, thanks to Barbara's pregnancy with Phoebe. Most likely, he was the only one of his classmates who had actually witnessed it—including Holly herself!

Next to arrive was Andromeda and her family. Ted was dressed like Regulus, and Tonks was dressed in a yellow poodle skirt with a black top. But Andromeda was dressed like a flower child, similar to Hermione's costume the Halloween before last, in the dungeons.

"Nice costume, Andromeda," Sirius said approvingly.

"Thanks," she replied. "Yours, too."

"Mum brought her guitar, and I'm learning to play drums," Tonks told everyone excitedly. "I'm pretty good at it, too."

Harry thought then that the Black family must have a lot of musical talent. Sirius, Regulus, and Andromeda all sang at a professional level; Regulus played piano; Andromeda played guitar; Narcissa played the violin (according to Sirius); and apparently, Tonks played the drums.

"We were hoping to do some live music," Andromeda added, gesturing to the guitar strapped to her back.

"Great!" said Sirius enthusiastically. "Hey, Reg, do you think you could play piano?"

Regulus finally snapped to, then.

"I-I suppose so, but…" Regulus turned to Holly and gave her a small smile. "We do want to show off our dancing skills, right, Holly?"

"Of _course_ ," Holly said emphatically. "Why not start the music, Sirius?"

"You got it!" Sirius grinned and headed up to the High Table, which had been extended and filled with refreshments of every sort. The House tables were all gone, leaving the dance floor empty. Students were filing in by now, and it was five to seven. When the clock finally struck seven, Sirius used the Sonorus Charm to amplify his voice, so that it sounded like he was speaking through a bullhorn.

"Welcome to the first-ever Hogwarts Valentine's Day Dance!"

Everyone cheered.

"Well?" said Sirius, turning to the record player. "What are you waiting for?"

Harry supposed he shouldn't have been, but he was still a little surprised when the record player started playing just by Sirius telling it to. The music was a song Harry knew, because they had played it at the wedding: "Johnny B. Goode."

Maybe the wedding had also made it a lot easier to initiate dancing, or maybe it was just because it was a fast dance, but Harry had no problem grabbing Hermione's hand and swinging her around on the floor. Ron didn't seem to have a dance partner at first, but that was soon remedied when the blonde, Sally-Anne Perks, walked up and started dancing with him.

Harry and his friends didn't know all the fancy footwork, but many of the older students, and certainly lots of the adults, seemed to. Barbara hadn't been able to dance very well at her wedding, due to being pregnant, but this time she could, and combined with Sirius, the two of them were almost as good as Regulus and Holly, who were fantastic, as usual. Malfoy was sitting at a table, looking grouchy, as Daphne Greengrass pulled on his arm, practically begging him to dance. But his cold eyes were focused on Astoria, who was dancing with another Slytherin boy.

They played another few songs, mostly "oldies," although a few modern ones were mixed in there, too, since the 1980's were a great decade for music. As the songs went on, many people went on switching partners, dancing across the floor and swinging arms with anyone who happened to be in the vicinity. But after many great songs, the record stopped again, and Sirius got back onto the stage.

"Now for the fun part," he said, his voice magically amplified. "Is anyone willing to come up and sing some karaoke?"

There were a few mixed reactions, but it wasn't long before Andromeda reached the stage, holding her guitar. Harry was glad, because he knew she was a great singer and guitarist. Any song she played would probably sound good.

"I'll do it," she said.

"Wonderful! What are you going to sing?" Sirius asked her.

"Why, our first slow song of the night," Andromeda replied, her eyes twinkling as she looked at the crowd. "Total Eclipse of the Heart."

Harry and Hermione looked at each other in surprise. That was _their_ song! As soon as Andromeda started to sing, with help from Tonks and Regulus on drums and the piano, they slowly put their arms around each other and started to dance.

Ron had danced with a few of Hermione's roommates, but he sat out for the slow song (along with quite a few others), watching the established couples move to the music. Harry was enjoying how comfortable it was in Hermione's arms. If only it could go on forever. But it wasn't long enough before the song was over, and they started another fast song.

At several points, of course, Sirius himself sang karaoke, including "Jailhouse Rock" (ironically), "Take Me Home Tonight," "Rock Me Gently," and "It's Not Unusual." They played records in between, or other people sang karaoke. Some songs Harry knew, some he didn't, but he liked almost all of them. Regulus was an excellent singer and an even better pianist, executing beautiful performances of "Piano Man" and "Unchained Melody." Holly sang "I'm So Excited," which was a real hit, and some duets with Regulus. Even Tonks did some duets with Remus, her new boyfriend. Sirius was trying hard to accept it, because they were his best friend and cousin, after all.

The fun part was when Harry got to sing "The Lion Sleeps Tonight," his favorite with Sirius. Even more fun was seeing Malfoy's glaring, jealous face in the crowd as Astoria cheered him along with her friends. The next record they played was "Let It Be," and they had a few more Beatles songs in there, too, including "Twist and Shout." Snape was looking especially grumpy during that song (Dumbledore had basically forced him to dance during the fast songs) and Sirius said it was because Snape took Lily to the Snow Ball one year when they were in school, but he slipped on the floor and passed out in front of everyone during "Twist and Shout," and James got to dance with Lily while Snape was in the hospital wing.

There were more fast songs than slow songs at the Valentine's Dance, and Harry thought it was because lots of the students, especially the underclassmen, didn't have boyfriends or girlfriends yet, and too many slow songs would make it awkward, or cause them to feel left out. So it was a welcome surprise to almost all of the couples, including Harry and Hermione, when the next record started to play "Can't Help Falling in Love."

 _Like a river flows_

 _Surely to the sea_

 _Darling so it goes_

 _Some things are meant to be_

The room was all dark but for some hovering, enchanted candles in Valentine's colors. Harry and Hermione were about the same height, and he was surprised when she brushed her lips a little against his. It had been quite some time since they'd last kissed, and Harry felt a kind of _zing_ throughout his body as he pressed his lips against hers, a little firmer this time, and for longer, his heart beating hard, his breath coming up short.

"Come on," Hermione breathed, pulling his hand and gesturing towards the doors. Harry looked behind him, a strange jolt in his stomach all of a sudden, like before he got a shot.

"Hermione!" said Harry in an undertone, deciding, though not really consciously, to ignore everyone else. "This isn't like you!"

"I know," she replied with a mischievous grin. There was a sort of gleam in Hermione's eyes that Harry had never seen before, a gleam of excitement. And it made him excited, too. Before he knew it, they were out in the deserted Entrance Hall. Hermione grabbed his shoulders and kissed him again (leave it to her to take charge of the situation) and Harry kissed her back, this time not letting go. It just didn't feel right to separate. He couldn't imagine this happening last Valentine's Day. Things were moving so fast…but it had never felt so good, never as wonderful as this…Harry almost wondered if he was even kissing her correctly, but a little voice seemed to whisper in his ear, _Just enjoy it._

And he almost did. But just as it felt as if things couldn't get any better, he heard a scream—Hermione!—and a pair of strong arms pulling him away from her, hot breath in his ears. Another scream, then what sounded like stone upon stone…Harry's head hit the floor painfully, and he was out like a light.


	56. Aftermath

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: You might have noticed that Chapter 56 came out twice! The old chapter 56, "The Dance," was way too short, and I wanted Valentine's Day to be one chapter anyway, so I combined "Be My Valentine" and "The Dance" into one chapter. Sorry for any confusion or inconvenience, and please enjoy the real Chapter 56!**

…

Harry didn't know where he was. Everything was hazy and blurry—and not just because someone appeared to have removed his glasses. What was going on?

Just then, he heard a voice out in the hallway: "Let us in, he's my _godson!_ And I'm a _teacher!"_

That voice…Harry found himself relaxing. Whenever he heard that voice, it meant things were going to be all right. That was the way it had been for as long as Harry had known this voice, even before he was born. Blindly, he reached his arms out, waiting for its owner.

And then the scent of Old Spice was all around Harry, and someone had leaned down to hug him without lifting him up. Finally, Harry felt the harsh pull of reality, and, looking around, it all started to rush back to him. Valentine's Day…the dance…that kiss…Most importantly, he knew who was there for him.

"Sirius?" said Harry groggily. "Where am I?"

"In the hospital wing," Sirius told him, looking anxious. "You hit your head pretty hard."

Harry looked around, fumbling for his glasses, and Sirius handed them over. When Harry could finally see again, he noticed that Sirius wasn't alone. Ron was there, too, as was Regulus, looking concerned, and a pale and shaking version of Barbara. But someone else was missing.

"Where's Hermione?" Harry asked weakly.

Everyone looked around at each other. Nobody seemed to want to say anything.

"Well?" Harry said. "Where _is_ she?"

"Oh, Harry…" Sirius came around to sit on the edge of Harry's bed and put his arm on his godson's knee. "She's—she's been attacked."

Harry sucked in his breath. "W-What?"

"During the dance, we heard a scream and a crash outside in the Entrance Hall," said Regulus. "Professor McGonagall held the rest of the students back while we went out into the Entrance Hall to see what was going on. You were unconscious, bleeding from the head, and Hermione was…well, she was Petrified."

"It was horrible," Barbara added shakily. Harry knew how scared she was of the Dark Arts. Some things in the magical world were still new to her.

"But I—it _can't_ be!" Harry said, looking around, hoping to see her running through the doors of the hospital wing, to tell him it had all been a mistake. But no one came.

"I'm afraid it is," Madam Pomfrey said, rather sympathetically, as she entered the room with some food. Harry pushed it away.

"She's _got_ to be okay!" Harry protested. "We were only out in the Entrance Hall for…for a minute…"

Just then Harry realized that eventually, people were probably going to be asking why he had been out in the Entrance Hall with Hermione in the first place. The answer was that they might have gone further that night than ever before, maybe even kissing the way the French did. But the atmosphere was so serious at the moment that nobody asked.

"I'm sorry, Harry," said Barbara softly.

"No…it's okay," Harry lied, hating the pitying look in her hazel eyes. "I-I've got my guys…"

Barbara raised her eyebrows as Harry gestured vaguely to Ron and Sirius. "Your _guys?"_

Harry shrugged.

"Well, at any rate, she won't be Petrified forever," Madam Pomfrey reminded them. "The Mandrakes should be ready by the end of the year, then we can revive all of the victims."

That was a little heartening, Harry had to admit. But still, how was he going to go to class without his girlfriend—and one of his best friends—by his side?

…

Something even worse happened only a few days later. Harry found out about it at breakfast the next morning, when he realized two people were missing from the staff table—Hagrid, the gamekeeper, and Dumbledore. As if reading everyone's wondering minds, Professor McGonagall stood up and raised her hands for attention. Harry didn't think he had ever seen her looking so grim.

"I am sure you all would like to know what has become of our gamekeeper and Headmaster," she began. "Well, I am sorry to say that, in light of the recent attack on Miss Hermione Granger, the Ministry of Magic has decided that—" Professor McGonagall cleared her throat, and Harry could see fire in her eyes. "The Ministry of Magic has decided that Professor Dumbledore is no longer fit to be in charge of the school. As the Deputy Headmistress, I am temporarily taking over his duties.

"As for our gamekeeper," she continued, "the Minister seems to think that Hagrid may have information on the attacker and have decided to…to hold him for questioning. Professor Dumbledore has requested that we keep the school running as normally as possible until those poor students—and ghost—are revived, and perhaps can name their attacker. Rest assured, whoever is doing this will be expelled."

Professor McGonagall sat down, and all the students began chattering amongst each other.

"I can't believe Dad's boss would do something so dumb!" Ron exclaimed, stabbing a deviled egg with his fork and shoving it into his mouth. "What, does he think the attacks will stop, now that Dumbledore's not here?"

"Apparently so," muttered Harry.

"It's awful," Neville said in a shaking voice. "I'm sure I'll be Petrified eventually…"

"How?" said Dean Thomas, leaning across him to get to the hash browns. " _You're_ pureblood. _I'm_ the one who should be looking out."

Harry winced; he didn't want to think about two more of his friends being Petrified, even if he wasn't as close to Dean and Neville as he was to Ron and Hermione. But Neville didn't seem convinced.

"My family is Reformed Pureblood," he retorted. "If you think about it…is that really any different from Muggle-born?"

"I guess not," Harry almost whispered, horror and dread filling him as he realized that maybe almost _nobody_ was safe. Maybe only pureblood supremacists like Malfoy were protected. What if Neville was right, and it was your values, not your blood status, that the Heir of Slytherin cared about?

Neville glanced around the Great Hall, his forlorn eyes scanning every table. "Seriously, guys, I'm really worried."

"Everyone is," Harry told him. "There's a lot of truth to your theory. My family was kicked off the Sacred 28 list because they were blood traitors."

Harry and Ron exchanged glances, and Harry could see that Ron was worried, too. Ron's family were the ultimate blood traitors. Like Sirius, Harry didn't think being a blood traitor was a bad thing at all, but you had to admit that there were a lot of people who did stigmatize that title.

For the rest of the meal, Harry couldn't stomach a thing. Hagrid was gone, Dumbledore was gone, Hermione was gone, and they weren't any closer to solving the mystery. All of a sudden, Harry's week had gone from bad to much, much worse.


	57. Minus One

February continued to be awful after that. The worst thing was that Harry was so used to having his girlfriend around that again and again, he would expect her to be there right by him, he'd think of something he'd love to tell her, but then he'd remember—she was in a coma, essentially, and even though they figured she'd be out of it by the end of the school year, he still missed her. And all day long, even a week after her attack, she was still constantly in his thoughts, in his worries.

What if she wasn't the same when she got revived? People didn't exactly get Petrified on a regular basis, did they? Did anyone know if there were any _permanent_ side effects of Petrification? What if her muscles were atrophying, her brain cells dying, as every non-Petrified person went about their day as usual? What happened when people were Petrified for too long? Harry sure didn't want to ask Snape, even though he would know the answer. Regulus probably did, too, since at least he knew enough about Dark Magic to figure out about Voldemort's Horcruxes before anyone else did. But deep down, Harry knew the real reason he wasn't asking was because he was afraid he wouldn't like the answer.

"Potter!" Snape's cold voice shouted, snapping Harry out of a recent day-nightmare of Hermione waking up from the Mandrake potion and not knowing who anyone was, even him. "Pay attention! You can't see the recipe for an Anti-Snoring Solution out the window."

Harry sighed and turned his attention to the blackboard again, where they were taking notes— _well_ , _Hermione would have been_ , he thought miserably. It wasn't as if Harry had really been looking out the window, anyway. The only window in the classroom was a small one in the door, and since they were in the dungeons, the only thing you could see was the hallway.

Barbara, though, was even worse than Snape. Harry knew she was trying to help, but she was doing the opposite of helping. Barbara wanted Harry to _talk_ about how he felt, and that was the last thing he wanted to do. Perhaps this prying nature was good for Sirius, who needed someone to vent to after all those lonely years. But not Harry.

It seemed he told her he was fine about a million times a day, but she never stopped asking it, hoping, Harry suspected, that she'd eventually get a different response. He was sick of the way her eyes filled with tears every time she looked at him. When she brought the topic of Hermione up around Sirius, Harry noticed, his godfather would usually change the subject loudly, hoping to distract Barbara from her efforts to get Harry to wear his heart on his sleeve, just like she did. But then it would be awkward, because even though Barbara sensed she'd committed some kind of social _faux pas_ , she couldn't see why someone _wouldn't_ want to talk about their feelings, so they were back to square one.

"Harry," she said Friday evening in the Gryffindor common room, "are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Harry said back, trying to keep his temper. When he looked up from his homework, he saw she looked almost as miserable as he felt.

"If you're not, that's all right," she reminded him anxiously. "Hermione was such an amazing girl…I-I understand how you—"

"No, you don't!" Harry shouted, interrupting her _before_ Sirius could, and stormed off to the boys' dorms, slamming the door behind him, leaving Sirius, Barbara, and Ron all staring in his wake. He didn't care. When he got up to his dorm, he threw himself back onto his bed and stared up at the ceiling, around the room, looking at all the things Hermione had given him—some books, a sweater one Christmas…Reminders of her were all around him. Was this what it was like for Sirius after Harry's parents died? Or for Barbara, after she lost her baby? She once said that for months after her miscarriage, she saw sadness in everything, and that was how Harry felt now.

…

Regulus came to visit Harry the weekend before February ended, though at first, Harry couldn't imagine why. But he said for Harry to meet him out in the courtyard.

"Good morning, Harry," Regulus greeted him politely that morning. _Too_ politely. No doubt he'd heard the news.

"Hi," Harry mumbled, waving.

"I suppose you're wondering why I'm here," Regulus said, sinking elegantly down onto a stone bench. Normally, Regulus would have asked how Harry was, but this time he didn't, probably because he already knew.

"Yeah," said Harry. "Why?"

"Well, here's something that might jog your memory," Regulus replied, retrieving something from his enchanted pocket. Upon closer inspection, Harry saw that it was Cassiopeia's snake cane, her wedding gift from the Gaunt family.

"You mean I have to practice Parseltongue _now?"_ Harry bleated.

"No, but I think it's a good idea," Regulus told him. "You haven't learned to speak on demand."

"I'll never need it," Harry declared.

"Harry, you don't know that," Regulus said. "This is a very rare gift, and the opportunity to hone it into a skill may not arise again."

Maybe not, but Harry didn't see that as such a problem. When would he need to speak Parseltongue when there wasn't a snake around? Sure, he couldn't avoid everything serpentine for the rest of his life, but where would he go that he would be disappointed or ashamed if he couldn't start speaking snake language out of nowhere? But still…Regulus looked pretty insistent, and Harry knew it would be pointless to argue.

"Fine," he said. "Whatever."

Harry was getting pretty good at stopping the need to speak Parseltongue when faced with the snake cane. But speaking Parseltongue on demand was a whole other matter. The book Regulus brought, _Parseltongue for Beginners_ , said that eventually it would come without an effort once he got the hang of it, but Harry felt he was never going to get to that point.

"Remember, picture a snake in your head," Regulus reminded him, for what seemed like the thousandth time.

"I'm _trying_ ," Harry told him, gritting his teeth, thinking of all the snakes he'd ever met. There was that one at the zoo, the day he first met Sirius. There was the one on the camping trip, which they'd killed with stones and cooked over a fire…Harry hadn't seen much of that snake. He just remembered it about to attack them until they attacked it first. Instead of that, he thought of the snake Snape had conjured up at dueling club.

"Just say something to it," Regulus prompted. "Anything."

"Usually they say something to me first."

"Well, then picture that."

What would a snake be saying? Harry thought of the words, _I'm trying to kill you_ , and tried to pretend it was the imaginary snake's voice and not his.

"Not if I kill you with stones," Harry told the snake.

"English," said Regulus. "Try again."

"I'm going to kill you with stones and cook you over a fire!"

"Not _louder_. In Parseltongue."

"I _told_ you, I'm _trying!"_

It went on like that, for a whole session, until Harry's brain felt burned out. His efforts weren't in vain—he actually did manage to hiss out some words. But (according to Regulus) he kept switching back to English after saying a couple words. On Sunday, they practiced a little more, and Harry hoped he would never need to know more than a few words of snake language.

…

By the time March began, Snape was back to teaching the Our Changing Bodies class. And even though he wasn't quite as awkward as a hot girl, he was still far from the best pick. Plus, quite unlike his Potions class, he was essentially teaching something he knew nothing about, since they were getting to the sex unit, and everyone was sure Snape was a virgin.

"How much do you bet he makes sex sounds as _un_ -sexy as possible?" said Ron. "I'll bet he's never even kissed a girl. Didn't he like your mum, Harry?"

"Who cares?" snapped Harry, who didn't want to think about Snape doing anything with his mother.

"I don't think I can stand it," Neville told them. "Do you think he's going to call on us?"

"Yeah, to get his _own_ questions answered," said Ron.

They entered the classroom and found Snape waiting for them. Unfortunately, the easel was there again. It was covered up, but something awful was probably underneath.

"Almost late, boys," Snape told the three of them, his black eyes flashing menacingly. "Don't let it happen again."

None of them said anything. They just sat down and waited for the lesson to end.

"In this unit, we will be learning about the way babies are made, and the—STOP LAUGHING!" Snape shouted, because quite a few of his students hadn't been able to control themselves.

"He's obviously going through a dry spell," Dean whispered to Harry and Ron.

"Yeah, a permanent one," Harry whispered back. Luckily, Snape didn't hear. Instead, he just paced in front of the class and glared at them menacingly.

"There is one way the Headmaster insisted that I begin this lesson," said Snape. "Does anyone have any—any _questions_ pertaining to this subject?"

Harry saw Goyle start to raise his hand, but Malfoy reached up and discreetly put it down. Ernie MacMillan, though, raised his hand high.

"Yes?" Snape snapped.

"I just wanted to take this opportunity to ask, Professor," said Ernie pompously, "what is sex really, _really_ like for a man?"

Several students gasped. That was something most of them had probably been wondering, but none of them dared _ask_ it, especially not in a room full of people, for crying out loud. In front of Slytherins, even. Snape, however, recovered quickly, replacing his shocked look with another glare.

"I have better things to do with my time," he said, barely moving his mouth. "Now, the lesson…"

As the class went on, Harry realized Ron's prediction was right. Nothing could take the excitement out of sexual activity faster than a sex ed class, especially one taught by a virgin. At least he couldn't seem to think of anything to assign to them as homework, which was definitely a first.

…

When Harry, Ron, and Neville got back to the Gryffindor common room, before the girls as usual, they found Barbara and Sirius waiting for them. It was good Phoebe wasn't there, because otherwise they couldn't have discussed the lesson. The shock and hurt from Hermione's fate was still hovering over Harry like a constant shadow, and he thought maybe listening to Sirius bash Snape would take his mind off of the subject, if only for a little while.

"So, uh…how was class?" Sirius asked a little hesitantly. He had been a little gentler to Harry since Valentine's night, though almost imperceptibly so. Harry didn't like it; he just wanted to wallow in his misery by himself.

"You wouldn't believe what that MacMillan kid asked Snape," said Ron, since neither Harry nor Neville seemed to really want to answer Sirius's question.

"What?"

"He asked what sex was really, _really_ like for a man."

"Oh, my gosh."

"Yeah, I know," Ron agreed. "Nobody could believe it."

"What did Snape say?" Barbara asked, eyes wide, leaning forward in her chair.

"Let me guess—he had to call in a whole squad of Aurors to restore order?" Sirius joked.

"No, he said he had better things to do with his time," Ron replied. Sirius burst out laughing.

"I'll bet!" he choked, barely able to contain himself. "What a dumb answer."

"I don't know what he was _supposed_ to say," Harry said. "He couldn't have answered the question any better than Holly could have."

"Holly could have answered it just fine," Barbara said, smirking. "I'm sure she's no dead fish in bed."

Harry felt himself going red in the face, and so did Ron and Neville. It just didn't seem right to think about someone like that if she was engaged to someone else, but sometimes it was hard to stop your brain from thinking some very inappropriate thoughts, and Charlie's old copies of _Witches and Broomsticks_ certainly didn't help.

"Well, I think he meant from a man's point of view," said Sirius, because Ron didn't seem to be able to talk anymore. "So a woman really couldn't answer that."

"No more than a man could tell you what it's like for a woman," Barbara agreed, nodding solemnly.

"Well, when I was in school, you had the kids who spent their free time studying in the library," Sirius told them, "and then there were the kids who spent their free time having sex in the library."

"Yeah, it was like that in my Muggle school, too," Barbara agreed, but Harry felt sad all over again, just thinking of what Hermione would say if she was here right now. In her opinion, Harry knew, doing anything sexual in a library was nothing short of blasphemy.


	58. Horrible

Ever since Hermione had gotten Petrified, Harry and Ron had been hanging out with Neville, who didn't really have a crowd of his own. Neville wasn't a bad companion, though definitely not the same as Hermione. Luckily, he could help them with their Herbology homework.

Defense Against the Dark Arts had been Harry's favorite subject all year—not just because Sirius was teaching it, but because he enjoyed it and was genuinely good at it. But now Herbology had become his favorite subject. Every time he walked into Greenhouse Three, he saw the Mandrakes, and they gave him hope. Hermione would get better.

One cloudy day, about a week or so into March, Harry was heading to the Greenhouse Three with Ron and Neville, picturing the Mandrakes in their pots. Professor Sprout said that as soon as they started trying to move into each other's pots, they would be ready to cut up, brewed into a Mandrake Restorative Draught, and fed to every victim of the Heir of Slytherin. As a bonus, they'd be able to name him, too.

As the three Gryffindors were making their way across the lawn towards Professor Sprout, who was standing in front of the greenhouse, waiting to unlock it, Ernie MacMillan stopped them.

"Harry," he said. "I just want to apologize for suspecting you earlier. I know you would never hurt Hermione Granger."

"That's okay," said Harry. "I'm sorry for calling you a lemming."

"Not at all, my dear friend," Ernie replied, running ahead of them to meet his fellow Hufflepuffs (minus Justin). Harry, Ron, and Neville lagged behind.

"Tick-tock, boys, one minute late," Professor Sprout scolded, but she didn't take any points from them, luckily. Instead, they hung back as she went to unlock Greenhouse Three, several of the Hufflepuffs crowding around her.

And in an instant, Professor Sprout's face turned pale. Several of the Hufflepuffs, peeking in, gasped. Hannah Abbott fainted.

"MacMillan…" Her voice was oddly raspy. "Go alert Professor McGonagall. And you—" (she summoned a house-elf, who appeared dutifully at her side) —"Take Miss Abbott to the hospital wing."

Ernie MacMillan rushed off to the castle; the look of utter terror on his face was one Harry would never, ever forget.

"Not another attack," Ron groaned.

Who was it _this_ time? The other two people in the castle Harry cared most about—Ron and Sirius—were both purebloods. Barbara and Phoebe were safely in Hogsmeade. No matter who had been Petrified, it couldn't be worse than what had happened to Hermione…right?

Wrong. Nobody was Petrified. It was much, much worse than that.

Not without a considerable effort, Harry managed to squeeze through the crowd into the greenhouse, his friends right behind him, and the grotesque sight that met his eyes almost made his knees buckle.

"Oh, Harry!" Neville cried.

It was the Mandrakes. They were gone. The shelf where they had once sat was full of completely empty pots. There was blood-red writing on the wall again, above the shelf; even in his haze, Harry could read the message the Heir had left:

 _ **YOUR CURE IS REDUCED TO ASHES. THE MUDBLOODS ARE WORSE THAN DEAD.**_

Harry slowly looked down, his heart beating out of his chest, and saw it. On the ground, there were indeed ashes—the remains of the Mandrakes. And they had been rearranged into a shape Harry recognized. He had seen it before on Regulus's left forearm.

"All teachers please report to the staffroom," Professor McGonagall's voice suddenly blared across the grounds. "I repeat! All teachers report to the staffroom. Emergency…"

And suddenly Harry felt sick to his stomach. As he watched Professor Sprout rush towards the castle, he made his way there too, without a clue where he was going. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered. There was no use running; he couldn't escape from the nightmare his life had become.

Somehow Ron and Neville managed to lead him into the wizard's room on the first floor. The two of them just stood there, looking pale and terrified, as Harry threw up into one of the toilets. Without even remembering to flush it, he sat down on it, making noises so weird, you couldn't even call them crying, his hands over his face.

"Maybe it's not so bad," said Ron shakily, walking over to Harry. "Maybe they can get more."

"I-I don't think so." Neville shook his head tearfully. "Mandrakes are really, really rare. If they'd just been cut up, maybe Professor Sprout could have regrown them…but they were burned."

"So—so Hermione can't…" Harry gulped, cleared his throat, and tried again. "Can't be saved?"

Ron looked like he was having a horrible epiphany. "If Mandrakes were so easy to find…"

"She could have just bought a Mandrake Restorative Draught at the apothecary," Neville finished.

"No," Harry groaned, looking up at the ceiling, trying to fight back tears starting in the corners of his eyes. "No…How could this…?"

"The perp probably didn't want to be found out," Ron said angrily. "So he destroyed the only way the Petrified people could be revived."

Harry wished Ron hadn't put it that way. Just as he'd put his face in his hands again, his whole body shaking uncontrollably, he heard the door open.

"So there you three are…" It was Sirius, holding the Marauders' Map in his hands. He, too, looked horribly pale. "Come on. I'll take you back to your common room."

"Sirius," Harry choked out. "They're—they're gone…all gone…"

"So I've heard." Sirius's voice shook, as did his hands, as he walked towards Harry and pulled him to his feet. "Come on, mate. You three, with me."

"I _can't!"_ Harry cried, leaning on Sirius for support. "I can't feel my legs."

Looking concerned, Sirius took Harry's hand and led him out of the toilet stall, where Harry leaned against the stone walls, eventually sinking down onto the floor to sit in a miserable heap. Ron, Neville, and Sirius joined him.

"Is there anything we can do, Sirius?" Ron asked anxiously.

"I'm not going to lie to you guys," Sirius said quietly, biting his lip. "It doesn't look good. And the fact that the Dark Mark was there…"

"Please, tell me I'm dreaming," Neville was heard saying. Harry leaned against Sirius's shoulder, and Sirius put an arm around his godson.

"Not this time, Neville." Sirius's voice was miserable. "There's—there's nothing we can do."

"Sirius, what happens?" Harry asked, feeling bitter tears now making their way down his cheeks. At the moment, he couldn't care too much about the Dark Mark; he was too worried about what was going to happen to Hermione. "If someone is Petrified for too long, what happens to them?"

There was that dark, closed-off look in Sirius's eyes again. "Do you guys know what happens during a dementor attack?"

They all shook their heads.

"When a dementor attacks—gives you the Kiss—you get your soul sucked out through your mouth," Sirius said, his voice hushed.

"You're _kidding!"_ Ron said loudly.

"I kid you not," Sirius told him. "I've seen it happen. Many times."

"So what does that have to do with Hermione?" Harry asked.

"The same thing happens if you're Petrified for too long." Sirius closed his eyes tight and shook his head. "Your soul. It leaves your body…only much slower. If you were eventually awakened, you would be just a shell. I've seen it. Dementors gave people the Kiss on a regular basis in Azkaban."

"What—what do they do…after they Kiss them?" said Neville shakily.

"They bury them," Sirius whispered. "Outside. Just like…just like those who died…"

And then it was Sirius's turn to bury his face in his hands. Harry looked at his friends; tears were now streaming down Neville's cheeks, too, but Ron looked frozen, his face as white as chalk. Harry just leaned into Sirius, not trying to get him to stand up. All the time he'd known his godfather, Harry thought Sirius could protect him from everything. As long as he could remember, he'd never had anyone to defend him, and then, suddenly, he did. But not even Sirius could fix _everything._

But the worst part was that in this case, nobody could.


End file.
